


Angelo di Roma

by KittyHawke



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Discussion of sad things, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ermal being a bit of a stronzo, Humour, I hope, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Some violence early on, angel au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 84,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyHawke/pseuds/KittyHawke
Summary: Fabrizio is a normal human who one day does something heroic and is given a guardian angel as a reward. What he didn't expect was to be assigned a grumpy, slightly jaded curly-haired angel. Now both of them have to make the best of a bad situation, and along the way, perhaps make a few unexpected discoveries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at publishing fanfiction. This idea has stuck with me for months so I finally decided to give it a try. Special thanks to Marjo and Sari who assured me it was worth sharing. If you like it, please comment below.

Fabrizio awoke to find himself spread-eagled on top of his bed. It appeared that he had walked through the door, fallen onto the covers and dozed off immediately. Despite how drained he usually felt after a long day at work, that had never happened before. A glance at the clock told him that it was 11.30pm and he had been asleep for around an hour and a half. He sat up and finally became aware that the ringing wasn’t his alarm, but his phone. He couldn’t help groaning. The number wasn’t recognisable which could only mean one thing.

“Hello?” he said, trying to cover a yawn.  
“Hello, is this Fabrizio Mobrici?” The voice on the other end was brisk and imperious, that of a man who has no time for nonsense.  
“It is.”  
“My name is Massimo Ferrero. Are you the support worker for Caroline Moretti?”

That got his attention. Caroline was one of his favourite clients, a seventy-nine year old widow that he’d been working with for the past three months. Her husband, who had died suddenly last year, had looked after all of the bills and she’d struggled to stay on top of them. She’d been staying on a friend’s sofa for six months before she was referred to Fabrizio, and after he had managed to find accommodation for her, she’d been making good progress.

“That’s me. What’s happened?” he asked, sitting up too fast and feeling momentarily dizzy.

“There has been a fire at Ms Moretti’s home address. She has been taken to San Giovanni’s for smoke inhalation and the fire brigade are at work trying to save the property. You were listed as her emergency contact.”

“I am. Thank you for calling, sir.”

Grateful that he was dressed, to the point of still wearing his coat, he ran out of the apartment and then doubled back to lock the door. His fingers beat an anxious tattoo on the steering wheel and he wondered whether the police would accept his excuse to get out of a speeding ticket.  
She’s already gone to hospital, he told himself sternly. Driving fast won’t change anything.

He reached San Giovanni’s and barrelled through A&E, up to the front desk. “I’m looking for Caroline Moretti. I’m her support worker.”  
“Room 10.”  
“Thank you.”

When he opened the door, he found Caroline lying in bed with a doctor by her side, taking notes.  
“How is she?” Fabrizio asked.  
“A few minor injuries, but she’s going to be alright.”

Fabrizio nodded gratefully and approached the bed. “Hello Caroline.”  
“Fabrizio!” Her wrinkled face lit up with joy. “You didn't have to come, although I'm pleased to see you.”  
“You look well,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That's a relief.”  
“They tell me I'll make a full recovery. How's the apartment? I heard the bedroom was bad. Did they save it?”  
“I haven't seen it yet. Caroline, what happened?”

She sighed and folded her arms on top of the blanket, reminding him of his mother when she was trying to avoid a difficult question. “My new Jacuzzi caught fire.”  
Fabrizio frowned in surprise. “Jacuzzi? When did you get a Jacuzzi?”  
“A few weeks ago. It's perfectly good. I don't know why it was thrown out.”  
“You're not supposed to plug a Jacuzzi into the mains. You need special generators for it.”

He wasn’t wholly confident in that statement, but Jacuzzis definitely didn’t seem like the kind of thing that could be safely installed in a residential building, never mind by an old woman who wasn’t capable of reading numbers on a spreadsheet.

“It's not strictly a Jacuzzi, Fabrizio,” she replied with dignity. “It's more of a birthing pool.”  
For a second, he didn’t think he’d heard her correctly. “You plugged a birthing pool into the mains?”  
“I think it overloaded the socket. I'm sorry, Fabrizio.”

She did look genuinely contrite and that softened his disbelief. She wasn’t the first client to do something moronic- only last Thursday, another one had fallen asleep while cooking potatoes and compounded the problem by throwing water on a grease fire- but still, trying to make a birthing pool into a Jacuzzi was a new one.

“I'll go ask about the apartment. Maybe the fire department was able to save it.”

He stood and walked into the hallway, looking around until he spotted a policeman at the end of the corridor. “Is there any news on Ms Moretti's apartment? Can anything be salvaged or…?”  
“It's been gutted,” the officer interrupted. “She's lucky there were no injuries, but the whole block will have to move into a hotel.”  
“Thank you.”

Fabrizio immediately turned and went back into his client’s room. “Caroline, I'm sorry. The apartment is gone.”  
He didn’t bother to say anything reassuring about how she was alive and only possessions had been lost. They weren’t only possessions. They were the photos of her husband, the food she couldn’t afford to replace, the few luxury items she’d saved up for and was so proud of buying. Most of all, the apartment was gone. The spacious one-bedroom with the decent rent that Fabrizio had found near her best friend and had been so happy to provide her with. He wouldn’t find anything like it again and they both knew it.

“I’m sorry” she said.

Part of him wanted to shake her, tell her that yes, she should be sorry and how could she be so foolish? And yet he knew from experience that only the cruellest person would display anger towards someone who had already been brought so low by the world.

“Don’t worry. I’ll look for another apartment. You’ll get a rent voucher since you don’t do drugs, so it won’t be so bad.”

“Thank you, Fabrizio. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re doing well, Caroline. You’ve come so far since we met. This is a setback, but we’ll work through it.”

**

The doctors decided to keep Caroline in hospital overnight. It was nearly two in the morning before Fabrizio was able to return home.

His apartment was on the ground floor of what had once been an impressive house, but had now been converted into four small boxes. The living room contained a dark green leather sofa and armchair that he’d got from a skip, a TV which didn’t work and a coffee table where his silver laptop sat proudly. A corridor led to the back of the apartment, passing the galley kitchen with room for only one person inside, the bathroom large enough for him to lean his back against the bath and touch the door with his feet, and the door to the communal garden with the washing machine tucked into a nook beside it. Finally there was the other main room in the apartment, his favourite room, a bedroom overtaken by a soft double bed which left only enough room for an antique chest of drawers. His most precious photos were lined up in silver frames on top of it.

What would he do if he lost these photos? He couldn’t imagine it. They were all he had to cling to.

He sat on the bed, intending to dial the familiar number, but then saw that he already had a missed call. For a second he experienced a feeling like leaving his body, until he saw the name. Claudio. Oh, okay. He took a deep breath and dialled.  
‘You have one new message.’  
“Hey Fabrizio, what are you doing on Saturday night? I’ve got a ticket to a Triplemania concert at Stadio Olimpico, but I’ve just found that I have a prior engagement and can’t go. Do you want it? Let me know tomorrow.”

Fabrizio deleted the message and then dialled another number.  
“Hi Fabrizio,” Giada’s voice was soft, probably trying not to wake the kids. “Sorry we missed you. I guess it was another hard day at work.”

He didn’t respond and she kept speaking. She’d always been good at that, papering over his silences so it wasn’t so noticeable.

“The kids are good. Libero’s match went well. His team won 3-2 and he scored two of those goals.”

She didn’t say it, but he knew that Libero would have wanted to tell him about it and he’d missed the call. If it was mentioned tomorrow at all, it would be with the dismissive tone of describing something that no longer mattered. He’d missed his chance to hear his boy chat excitedly about his achievement and he hated himself for it, but Giada was so wonderful. She never judged or made him feel even worse about himself for not being there.

“Anita isn’t friends with Chiara anymore” she added, changing the subject quickly. There was a smile in her voice as she spoke. Anita’s friendship with Chiara was like a long-running soap opera. They fell out and made up with alarming frequency, for no reason as far as Fabrizio could see. He sometimes worried that it was unhealthy for his daughter to have such an unreliable friendship.

“I’m sure they’ll be friends again in time for her birthday,” Giada continued. “She’s really looking forward to seeing you. They’re both asleep right now, but I’ll put the phone next to Anita and you can listen.”

There was a crackle followed by silence, and then he heard the slow, steady breaths of a soundly sleeping child. Tears began to run down his face and he put a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One decision changes many lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm comments on the last chapter. I wasn't expecting so much love, so you blew my mind <3 The second part was finished quickly thanks to the Easter break and I decided to simply put it up now for you to read at leisure.
> 
> I'm going to add a warning for violence at the end. Hopefully it's nothing too graphic, but the situation is a bit scary and I don't want to upset anyone. I'm sorry in advance if I do. If you enjoy reading, leave a kudos or a comment. It makes me smile :)

The next morning, Fabrizio dragged himself out of bed at 6am. Between the Roman traffic and all the stops it made en-route, the bus took two hours to reach the office. He could drive to work in a little less time, but that would deny him the opportunity to sleep, so public transport it was.

His workplace was a renovated schoolhouse half a mile outside the city. It was a beautiful building, though the interior wouldn’t win any design awards. It was functional and notably contained no frills- the day Andrea snuck in a microwave capable of emitting more than 400 watts was a source of significant celebration- which seemed only fair considering the people they looked after, and it was a bright and clean space.

Fabrizio had spent fifteen years here, first arriving as a client when he was referred after eleven months in prison for stealing a car, and later as a volunteer at the enablement centre where rough sleepers went for a solid meal and help from a support worker. When Alessandro left to become a stockbroker and earn three times more than his colleagues could dream of, Fabrizio was recommended for the newly vacant full-time position and couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Did you get my message?” Claudio asked as soon as he walked in.

Claudio was the one in charge of finances, more specifically donations since the centre was entirely reliant on charity to stay open. He was the one who brought investors and kind-hearted rich people out for lunch, explained how their money would be spent and why the centre was a worthy cause, and then kept up gentle pressure until they’d agreed to put some of their money into the pot. He was charming, but terrifying if people tried to mess him about, and very good at his job.

“I did,” Fabrizio confirmed, removing his jacket and putting it over the back of the chair. “Who are Triplemania?”

“They’re a Europop group from Sweden,” Roberto piped up. “He asked me if I wanted it too, but I said no. I will be busy on Saturday attending the album signing of Shady Oaks, who are a real band.”

Roberto was their administrator. He dealt with paperwork, queries and complaints, and was often the first point of contact for new clients. Andrea had once held that job, until he left to work in the back office of a museum. The centre had quite a high turnover of staff due to the stress and low pay. Fabrizio and Claudio were the longest serving staff members and Fabrizio quietly lived in fear of Claudio leaving too. He couldn’t imagine ever leaving this job, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“Shady Oaks wear bed sheets and sing in a made-up language” Claudio said.

Roberto scoffed in response. “Triplemania throw paint at each other."

“Why can’t you go to the concert?” Fabrizio interrupted before their back-and-forth could go any further. It was all in good fun, but suddenly he felt a bit shaky and not in the mood for even fake arguments. Fortunately Claudio immediately turned to him.

“I’m going to the cinema with Giorgia” he declared proudly.

Giorgia worked in an employment agency. They often had reason to deal with her or her colleagues, since the people they housed needed a way to make money which didn’t involve a return to crime or sex work. Claudio had been trying to ask her out for five months, but she remained blissfully oblivious. It had become a source of both entertainment and frustration in the office, but this was a very welcome development, if only because it might stop him from looking so droopy upon returning from yet another failed attempt.

“Congratulations” Fabrizio said. Roberto concurred with a thumbs-up. Claudio smiled, basking in his victory for a moment, and then looked again at Fabrizio.

“Do you want the ticket?”

He thought about this Saturday, as empty as the one before and after it. It had been months since he went out and did anything, and hearing his friends talk of album signings and movies had momentarily made him wonder what they would say if they knew he spent every Saturday locked in the house watching YouTube. Maybe it would be fun. Even if he didn’t know or care about Triplemania, the atmosphere of a concert could be enjoyable. He used to love attending live shows.

“Yeah, I’ll take it.”

The rest of the day was spent trying to find a new apartment for Caroline, which meant dealing with estate agents. Fabrizio hated estate agents. They were all about twenty years old and in each other's pockets, humming and hawing as they tried to squeeze people for money, allowing their clients to pull out of deals on a whim and for the most ridiculous reasons. The stereotype was that lawyers were the most morally bereft profession, but Fabrizio begged to differ.

Between the agent's calls to his clients and three hour lunch break, and Fabrizio's calls to Caroline, the bank and the management company for the block, it was ten to five before he managed to lock down the apartment. It was smaller, more expensive and a few miles away, as the estate agent delighted in telling him, but it was all that was available. The management company refused to give any kind of compensation to help Caroline find a place that she could afford without a rent voucher, and not only because the fire was her fault. Apparently they weren’t offering financial assistance to anyone, the heartless bastards. Their tenants paid them monthly to tend the gardens, a task they could do themselves with a rota, and yet their overseers wouldn’t stump up in their time of need. Fabrizio felt drained and like a total failure as he turned off his computer to go home.

**

Caroline was released from hospital the following day and spent a few days at her friend’s house. Fabrizio picked her up on Monday and his heart broke to see her standing alone on the pavement. When he ferried clients to their new homes, they were often carrying bin bags filled with clothes and pictures, but Caroline had nothing. He squeezed her hand when she climbed into the front seat of the car and she smiled back.

“I can’t wait to see the new place,” she said, apparently sincerely eager. “I think Diana was getting tired of me staying on her sofa. We’re not the greatest of flatmates, with her bad hearing and my bad hip. Even when we were young, she needed her space. She was always telling me to go out and do something back then, just to get me out of the house. Is this your company car?”

Fabrizio laughed. “You could say that, I suppose.”

“I hope the person next to you didn’t get a BMW” she replied, smiling.

“Oh no, I would hand in my notice if that happened.”

Caroline burst out laughing.

The new apartment was in a building that looked older and more unkempt than Fabrizio would have liked. It didn’t have parking space, which wouldn’t inconvenience Caroline too much, or a lift which was more of a problem. The area was leafy insomuch as nobody weeded their paths. Still, he’d done his research and it had a very low crime rate. It was obvious as they walked towards the building that Caroline was overjoyed with it, which was just one of the reasons that Fabrizio was so annoyed to discover that the landlord had given him the wrong key.

One quick conversation on the phone, conducted almost entirely in furious whispers as Caroline sheltered in the doorway a few metres away, and Fabrizio had established that the landlord was currently in Florence. He promised to return as soon as possible with the correct key, which meant Fabrizio had no choice except to return to Caroline and admit that they were going to have to go looking for the nearest café and wait.

It was a busy place serving strong tea and pastries with prices scrawled on a chalkboard outside. Fabrizio bought a slice of cake and some tea for Caroline, which she proceeded not to touch.

“I’ll try to find time next to week to come over and go over the bills with you” he said. She smiled gratefully.

“That would be great, Fabrizio. Thank you so much. Could you…?” She paused and looked down, playing with the napkin. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

“This online banking thing that everyone talks about,” she admitted. “I don’t understand how it all works, but it might be useful if this hip gets worse.”

He nodded. “I’ll help you with it. Actually, Caroline, I think I might make a doctor’s appointment for you as well.”

She looked up, startled. “Oh no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? You’re finding it more difficult to walk.”

“I can still walk,” she insisted. “It just takes a little bit of time to click my bones into position these days.”

“Maybe it’s worth having it looked at, in case there’s something that can be done to ease it.”

“I know what it is, Fabrizio.” She pierced him with her glare. “I have the start of arthritis. It’s what happens when you get to my age. Thank you for your concern, but a doctor’s appointment will not be necessary. There’s no sense in making a fuss when there’s nothing they can do.”

Fabrizio thought about arguing, and then decided to drop it. This was a fight for another time.

It was after 7pm before they finally gained access to the apartment, and closer to 9pm by the time Fabrizio had shown her how everything worked and made sure she was settled. He held his breath as she silently looked around the living room, taking in the rough carpet with the nauseating psychedelic swirls of orange and brown, and the vertically striped pink and cream wallpaper. It was a nightmare from the 1970s and Fabrizio wished he could take her to Ikea in order to make it a little more homely, but he lacked the time and money, and she lacked the health for redecoration.

Finally she turned to him and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. She swallowed.

“It’s brilliant” she said.

**

Throughout the rest of the week, he drove people to their respective addiction meetings, spoke to a new client whom he'd found sofa surfing at an existing client's house, did some shopping for Caroline and brought five ready meals over to her new apartment to see her through the week, spent three hours on two separate days talking down a suicidal client while frantically Googling and urging them to see a real therapist, and finally visited the hospital again to see a coke addicted client who'd relapsed and overdosed spectacularly.

He could never say that his job was boring. Exhausting, difficult, but never monotonous.

He slept until 1pm on Saturday, ate a late lunch from the deli while watching Triplemania on YouTube- their songs were decent, but he wouldn't spend money on them- and then prepared to go out to the show. He wasn't sure whether to wear his sleeveless top and ripped jeans, or a shirt and trousers, but he went for comfort over fashion. He took his old green coat, the one his mother threatened to steal and burn every time she saw it, to protect against the chilly night.

Triplemania's fans numbered ten women to every man, and none of them were over 35. Fabrizio had a sudden fear that he wouldn't be allowed inside, but he was. The woman at the door ripped his ticket unnecessarily viciously and let him pass. He looked at the card, barely held together now, and hoped Claudio hadn't wanted it for a souvenir.

His seat was in the sixth row, next to the aisle, surprisingly close to the stage and with an excellent view. Well, it had an excellent view for a few minutes until a woman with an afro sat in front of him. Still, it wasn't necessary to see the stage in order to enjoy the music, although he confessed he was a little curious about Roberto's talk of throwing paint. Claudio would have been furious to have paid for what was surely an expensive ticket and then been forced to crane his neck throughout the show. The thought brought a smile to Fabrizio's lips.

The band arrived ten minutes after their scheduled start time. Fabrizio admired their punctuality. The crowd around him cheered wildly as they began the first song, and he smiled and sat back in his seat, relaxing as those around him danced and sang. It was fine. Not at all his kind of music and he didn't understand a word, but he was enjoying himself.

Three songs had passed. The current track was some loud, upbeat dance track with a bass that shook the floor and hurt Fabrizio’s ears. The lead singer came to the edge of the stage and held the microphone out to the crowd. Above the loud, tuneless singing in response, Fabrizio heard a shriek.

“Morte!”

It came from close by and he turned in surprise. His eyes picked the man out quickly. He looked out-of-place among the bright T-shirts and jackets, wearing black jeans and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up inside. The bang was not lost among the drums. It was an unnatural, horrifying sound that reverberated around the enclosed space. Those further away looked around, confused. Fabrizio was frozen, staring at the man and the shape in his hand. And then he saw the girl.

She was lying face down. She had blonde hair that spilled into the aisle. The gunman stepped on it as he passed her. People were starting to notice, scream, and try to run. Fabrizio stepped into the aisle, feeling numb, as if some otherworldly entity had taken control of his body. The gunman wasn’t looking at him. He was taking aim at the crowd by the exit.

“Hey!”

Fabrizio charged as the man turned. The gun wasn’t lifted in time and they collided, both of them falling to the floor. Fabrizio instinctively put his hands around the man’s neck, but something hard hit him in the skull and he was knocked sideways. His vision briefly shorted out and when the world faded back into focus, he saw the man standing up, pointing the gun at him. Fabrizio immediately grabbed his ankles and pulled his legs from under him, just like he’d done when he was wrestling with his brother as children.

There was a crack as the man’s head struck the floor and then Fabrizio was on top of him, trying to pin his arms with his knees, except they weren’t where he expected. He felt something small, round and metallic press against his chest. The adrenaline faded, replaced by gut-wrenching terror as he realised that this was his death.

He didn’t feel anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for this ending.
> 
> Next time: Ermal arrives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, sono morto; vedo la luce, vedo il mondo distorto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the lovely, kind comments. I really love writing this story and it is a joy to share when I can see other people are enjoying it too :)

He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until he woke up, not in his bed as he expected to, but in a dark abyss. There was nothing above or below him. He felt as if he was floating in space.  
“Hello?”  
His voice was muffled. He could hear other voices, but only faintly, like a badly tuned radio was fading in and out. He couldn’t understand what they were saying.  
“Hello?”  
He was lying horizontally on nothing and tried to sit up, to stand, but his waving arms didn’t push against anything. This really was like space. It was odd, but he didn’t feel frightened. It was peaceful in this abyss, more peaceful than he could remember feeling for a long time. If he could float here forever in the quiet, that would be okay.

The light began small, just a small pinprick on the edge of his vision, and then growing larger and brighter until he had to turn away from the 100 watt shine.  
“It’s your time!” a booming voice echoed through the darkness. Out of nowhere, Fabrizio felt joy. So all of those stories were real. There truly was a light that invited you to enter the next life.  
“I’m ready” he replied. He reached out, but something was happening. Something was going wrong. The light was starting to fade.  
“Wait…”  
“Sorry,” the booming voice said. “Administrative error.”  
The light got dimmer and dimmer, until it was gone entirely, and Fabrizio was plunged back into darkness. The abyss suddenly seemed much less welcoming than before. The voices in his head were back, clearer now. He could hear his mother, his father, his sister, an unidentified woman…

“Stay with us, Fabrizio.”

They were no longer in his head. They were above him. He looked up and saw the edge of the abyss wavering. He wasn’t in space, he realised. He was underwater, in the ocean, and the waves were breaking above him. He moved his arms and this time they met resistance, pushing him up and up, closer to the surface, until he broke through…

He gasped for air and then realised that he didn’t have to. An oxygen mask covered his face. He ripped it off and looked around. He was in a hospital room. There was a TV in front of him, a small table with a few Get Well cards and a bunch of flowers next to him, and a drip on his other side. He looked down at his arm and saw the tube leading to a blood bag, and the electrodes on his chest connected to a heart monitor. An uncomfortable tug on his nether regions indicated the presence of a catheter as well. How long had he been out? What had happened? Who else had been hurt? Before he could call for help, the door opened and a pretty dark-haired nurse walked into the room.

“Oh! Mr Mobrici, it’s so nice to see you awake.”

“What happened?” His voice sounded weak and croaked from lack of use.

“We almost lost you for a moment. You’re lucky to be here. Your family will be delighted.”

The door opened again and this time a man looked inside.  
“Excuse me, is this the room of Fabrizio Mobrici?” he asked. The nurse turned and smiled at him.  
“It is. Mr Mobrici just woke up” she reported.  
“Good timing.” The man came inside, holding a bunch of yellow flowers. “Hi Fabrizio.”

“I’ve never seen that man before” Fabrizio declared quickly. He would certainly remember someone with such striking curly hair.

The man’s face fell and Fabrizio almost felt guilty for denying that they knew each other, as insane as that was.  
“Don’t you remember me? I’m Ermal, your flatmate.”

“I live alone.”

The nurse was frowning, looking between them. The man took a shaky breath and then pulled out his phone.  
“We’re best friends, Fabrizio.”

“My best friend is Claudio. I don’t know anyone called Ermal.”

Nevertheless the man came over to the bed and turned his phone screen towards Fabrizio. Unbelievably, he saw himself and this same curly-haired man with their arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling.  
“Wh…Who are you?” he demanded.

The man turned to the nurse, pulling an anguished face. “Did the bullet do any damage to his brain? This is so worrying.”

She looked between them once more, but the photo seemed to convince her. “I’ll ask the doctor to run another few tests” she said, and hurried out of the room.

Fabrizio was struck dumb by her ineptitude. She had just abandoned him, bedridden, to the mercy of a stranger who somehow had a photo of them together! What kind of mad man was this? Sure enough, when she was gone and the curly-haired stranger turned back to Fabrizio, the dismissive look on his face was clear evidence that this was a ploy.

“Well, that could have gone better” he remarked, dumping the flowers ignominiously on the table.

“I don’t have memory loss! I don’t know you!” Fabrizio yelled.

The man smiled slightly and bowed, spreading his arms on either side like a second-rate magician. “I am your guardian angel.”

“What? Nurse!”

The man’s amused expression vanished in an instant. “Are you serious?” he demanded. “Like this job isn’t hard enough as it is. Alright,” He walked around the bed and sat down heavily, barely missing Fabrizio’s legs. “Listen and I’ll try to explain in a way that even you can understand. So you died…”

“Died?”

“That was not the best way to open, I grant you that,” the man said smoothly. “You didn’t really die. Your heart stopped, but heavenly intervention got it started again. You’re a hero, see. Upstairs thought you deserved a second chance.”

He pointed at the ceiling with his index finger like a child.

“I’m not a hero” Fabrizio replied at once. The man cocked his head to the side.

“Do you know how many people were supposed to die in that concert?” he queried. “Thirteen. You saved twelve lives. Hooray for you.” He gave a few light claps which were undoubtedly mocking.

“She died then? The girl?”  
“Well…” He paused, obviously uncomfortable. “Yeah, but no-one else did.”  
“That’s no comfort to her family” Fabrizio sighed, looking away.

“Most people would be celebrating that they survived, and that they did it in such style.”

“Why would I?” he demanded furiously. “She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. Look at me, halfway down the hill and having achieved nothing. How am I a fair exchange? You should have given your second chance to her.”

“I don’t make the decision,” the man said without hesitation or care. He lifted his legs and extended them to rest on the chair beside the bed, looking utterly relaxed. “Speaking of achieving nothing, that’s why I’m here. I have been assigned to make sure everything goes swimmingly for the rest of your days so the sacrifice was worth it, so what do you want from me?”

“You’re crazy. Nurse!”

“Okay, so we’re doing this.”

The man stood up and walked to the end of the bed so Fabrizio couldn’t avoid looking at him. His skin began to glow gently, like moonlight, and a pair of enormous feathered wings unfurled on either side of him. Fabrizio screamed and tried to shuffle away, but his legs wouldn’t move and he only managed to pull painfully at the wire in his arm.

“Wow, he runs towards a man with a gun, but a pair of wings makes him have a breakdown. Humans never cease to surprise.”

Fabrizio kept his face averted, terrified of seeing those wings again. Once he could discount as a hallucination, but twice would probably make him lose his mind. Several seconds passed in utter silence, and though he could hardly bring himself to look, finally the need to know where the stranger was and what he was doing became overpowering. He turned slowly and was astonished by the sight. The man- the angel- was sitting on the windowsill and staring at him anxiously, wings gone. In the next second, the door flew open and the dark-haired nurse rushed in.

“What happened?” she gasped, looking around frantically.

“He’s having flashbacks,” the man replied. He sounded genuinely afraid and Fabrizio had to admire his acting skills. “He seems so confused and distressed, poor man.”

The nurse released a sigh of relief, no doubt watching visions of a complaint fade before her eyes, and smiled at Fabrizio. “Everything is alright now,” she said, in the same tone that Fabrizio used when his children had a nightmare. “We’ll have you well in no time.”

Physically well, Fabrizio thought, although even that was doubtful when he remembered his numb legs. The mental injuries would take longer to go. He thought of that girl’s long hair spilling across the floor, the cold determination in the man’s eyes, the terror that had taken him outside his body. He never wanted to experience anything like that again.

“I’ll call and see you tomorrow, Fabrizio,” Ermal said, hopping off the windowsill and leaning over the bed as if he was about to kiss Fabrizio’s forehead. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “They’ll put you in a psychiatric hospital.”

He straightened up, smiled and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you like it, leave a comment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio does not get a moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments as always :) Enjoy!

His parents were the first people to visit. His mother ran into the room and almost climbed into the bed with him.  
“Fabrizio! You're alive! I was so worried!”

“Mamma, I'm fine. It's okay.”  
He raised one arm to hug her while trying to shift his body out from under her weight.

“Marisa, get off him. You'll pull out his wires,” his father admonished. He stood off to the side, arms folded, uncomfortable. “How are you, son? What did the doctor say?”

“I haven't seen him yet. No brain damage, but I'm finding it difficult to move my legs.”

His mother promptly wailed in distress.

“We'll wait to see what the doctor says,” his father said pragmatically. “I'm sure it won't be so bad.”

The door opened and his siblings joined them, Filippo coming straight over to the bed while Romina hung back.

“There are reporters outside” his brother said.  
“What? Why?” Fabrizio demanded.  
“They want to talk to you. You’re front page news.”  
“Is nothing else happening in the world?”

Filippo chuckled at that. “I don’t think there’s anything more interesting than you at the moment” he said. Fabrizio opened his mouth to say that he didn’t want to talk to reporters, and he didn’t want his family speaking to them either, when a more alarming thought popped into his head.

“Wait, how big is this story? Does Giada know? Do the kids know?” he asked frantically. His mother looked down at her hands.  
“Giada heard,” she admitted. “She called us when she couldn’t get hold of you. I told her that you were alive and to wait until you were feeling better.”

“Well, now I am,” Fabrizio retorted, automatically trying to get out of bed and forgetting about his useless legs. He groaned and lay back on the pillows. “I need to talk to her. I need to tell her everything’s okay. I don’t want the kids worrying.”

“Fabrizio, don’t get stressed. It’s not good for you. We’re keeping her updated, don’t worry” his father replied.

“I’ll bring a phone in for you tomorrow,” Filippo said. He sat on the end of the bed. “Why were you at that concert anyway?”  
“Claudio gave me the ticket.”  
“Bad luck, or maybe good luck,” he remarked. “You saved lots of people.”

“I don't know whether to hug you or scold you,” Romina interjected, coming forward. “That was such a stupid thing to do.”  
She bent down and gently hugged him, taking care not to disturb the wires.

“Romina, it worked! He's alive, everyone's alive” Filippo insisted.

Not everyone, Fabrizio thought, feeling a dark cloud slide over his head once more.

“He's paralysed” his mother said. Filippo turned sharply, horror written across his face for the first time.  
“What?”  
“The doctor hasn't confirmed that” his father said.  
“Oh my God.” Romina put a hand over her mouth.

Fabrizio felt a headache coming on. He rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to block them out for a moment.  
“No!” his mother shrieked, grabbing his shoulder and shaking frantically. “Don't leave again!”

He was relieved when his friends arrived, not least because his family cleared out to make space for them. He loved his family, but his head was being pulled from side to side trying to listen to them, and he was exhausted.

His friends were laden down with treats. Each one of them carried food in his arms. “I can never eat all this” Fabrizio said, staring as they piled their snacks like offerings on an altar.

“I know,” Alessandro replied. “This is mostly for us. Take what you want.”

Fabrizio looked at the selection- four bags of grapes, two lollipops, two bags of crisps, four apricot tarts from a high-end patisserie, five bottles of water, a bottle of whiskey and one chocolate bar, as well as four books and twelve magazines that he would bet money had been added by Claudio- and selected some grapes and an apricot tart before settling back against the pillows. Alessandro took up a position on the windowsill, Andrea on the chair in the corner, Roberto at the bottom of the bed, and Claudio on the chair closest to Fabrizio.

For a few moments, no-one spoke. The silence was filled by the gentle crunch of crisps and munches of sweets as they attempted to create an atmosphere of normality. In the end, it was Fabrizio who took the first step.  
“How was your weekend?”

It almost seemed as if his friends froze, glancing at each other. “Is that what you want to talk about?” Claudio asked.

“What else are we going to talk about?” he inquired. He sounded sharper than he’d intended, he noted ruefully.

They looked at each other, and then Claudio reached out and put a hand on Fabrizio’s arm. “Are you doing okay, Fabrizio?”

“Yes, I'm fine. I'm alive, aren't I?”  
He definitely sounded defensive now.

“As long as you're okay,” Claudio insisted. “You can talk to us if there's anything you want to say, alright?”  
“Alright.”  
“Alright.” Claudio sighed, but dropped the line of questioning, and reclined in his chair. “Well, the movie was fine and the date was not in fact a date.”

“No way!” Fabrizio stared. “How did that happen?”

“Giorgia's friend cancelled on her and she wanted someone at short notice. She thought it was just a friend thing.”

“What happened? How did you find out?”

“I held her hand the whole time and she didn't complain, but then after the movie, I tried to kiss her and she recoiled. It was so embarrassing!”

“Sorry Claudio.”

Now it was Fabrizio’s turn to reach out. The wires and Claudio’s position prevented him from making contact, so his sympathy was expressed via some foolish waves in the air. His best friend shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh well, I didn't have the worst weekend in the team.”

Once again, awkward silence descended on them. Fabrizio could see eyes glancing around, searching for the person who would start another topic of conversation, hoping it didn’t have to be them. Roberto was the next volunteer.

“The signing was cancelled” he declared. All heads turned gratefully in his direction.

“Why?” Fabrizio asked.

Roberto snorted unhappily. “The lead singer broke his leg,” he said. “As I said to Andrea, he doesn't need two legs to sit behind a table and sign some albums, but no. So I was stuck in Assisi with nothing to do for the whole day.”

“It was in Assisi? You didn't say that. Oh, I'm sorry.”

Roberto shrugged. “It doesn't matter. There will be another opportunity” he said, with more equanimity than Fabrizio was sure he would have displayed if not for the current situation.

“I walked under the automatic barrier in the car park,” Alessandro blurted out, not giving silence a chance to creep over them again. “I didn't even see it. It came down on my head. I've still got a huge lump. So yeah, none of us had a great weekend, I guess.”

“Claudio,” Andrea said. “Tell us about the movie anyway.”

Somehow half an hour passed with Claudio regaling them with the exact plot of the movie, plus his overall impressions of the story, soundtrack, casting and cinematography. The in-depth review only ended because a nurse told them to leave so Fabrizio could sleep. He did feel quite weary, actually, and he felt his mind empty within several minutes of their departure.

When he woke up, he had already been joined by another visitor. Ermal, if that was his real name, and Fabrizio suspected that it was. It seemed too unusual to be made-up. He was sitting on the windowsill, and if Fabrizio’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, was engaged in making a very neat row of paper figures.

“How are you feeling?” he asked without looking up. Fabrizio didn’t bother to question how the angel knew he was awake.

“Something’s wrong with my legs” he said.

Ermal nodded as if that was reasonable and expected. “Yeah, probably a spinal cord injury from the second shot.”  
“Second shot?”  
“Guy wanted to finish the job. I guess you put up a very good fight.”

“What happened to the other people? Do you know?” Fabrizio asked.

“A lot of them were able to get out,” Ermal replied. “The ones who didn’t were able to hide, and you cracked the guy’s skull when you knocked him down. He managed to get back on his feet after he shot you, but then he fell down again before he was able to shoot anybody else.” He suddenly giggled. “The police found him laid out on the floor for them.”

Fabrizio thought about it for a moment, waiting to feel some modicum of guilt for causing such a large injury. There was nothing.

“Can you help me walk again?” he asked now.  
“No, you have to do physiotherapy for that” Ermal replied quickly.  
“I thought so.”

They lapsed back into silence. Fabrizio looked at his legs and tried to lift one. It was so strange to feel his muscles clenching and to know how much effort was going into the attempt, and yet see no response. This was going to be so difficult, he realised. He always knew physiotherapy was hard, but he always thought it was a matter of building up strength and learning how to walk again. If his legs weren’t moving at all, he had no starting point and nothing to build on. Panic sparked in his chest.

“I can boost your energy. It might speed up the process a bit” Ermal said suddenly.

Fabrizio turned to look at him, suddenly curious. He hadn’t really thought about what Ermal’s presence meant before. In fact, it seemed like he had been receiving so much information in such a short space of time that he hadn’t even considered that some kind of supernatural entity was in his room. The memory of those wings was the only thing which assured him that he wasn’t losing his mind and Ermal was not just a delusional stranger. That did not make him any less suspicious of the other man’s intentions, but now he wondered if it would be worth exploring what having a guardian angel actually involved. 

“So what do you actually do? I mean, what are your powers?” he asked.

Ermal put down his paper and placed his hand thoughtfully on his chin. “That’s a good question,” he said. “I can function well without sleep. I can eat any kind of food and it seems that isn’t a common skill. I can run over rough terrain without twisting my ankle, which I think you’ll agree is impressive. Oh, I can do a proper dive. I’m very proud of that one. And I can fly.”

He finished the list with a satisfied grin which clearly told Fabrizio that he would not get a straight answer out of this guy.

“You’re not what I expected” he remarked.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, perhaps a blonde woman in a long white dress.”

“Didn’t you ever learn not to stereotype people?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Fabrizio pulled the blanket up to his chin, feeling cold. “Can you get rid of those reporters outside?” he asked.

“They’re here for you.”

“I don’t want them here,” Fabrizio retorted. His voice was hard and angry. “They want to glorify a tragedy. Do you think they’ve talked to the parents of the girl who died? It’s all about making a good story for them, but they don’t care about the real lives that were affected by this. They’ll poke around in my private life and then they’ll leave with their columns, and meanwhile I’m paralysed, a family is grieving and who knows how many other people will feel nervous in a public space for the rest of their lives?”

He could feel how heavy his breathing had become. His blood pressure was probably through the roof and the doctors would raise their eyebrows at the readouts for the heart monitor. He glared at Ermal, suddenly wanting to fight someone, anyone, and the angel was the only person in the room and the only one available to take out all of his frustration and hatred on. Ermal was looking at him silently with an expression that Fabrizio couldn’t read.

“You care a lot about people, don’t you?” he remarked. Fabrizio couldn’t figure out his tone.

“I’m a housing support worker. I deal with the people who fall through the cracks. Caring is part of the job,” he snapped. His own words suddenly reminded him of yet another horror that he had to deal with. “Oh God, how am I supposed to go back to work now?”

He bent forward and hid his face in his hands. His breathing was growing shallow and rapid now as the full implications of the situation became clear. If he was paralysed, he wouldn’t be able to drive. He wouldn’t be able to go up all of those steps in apartment buildings with no lifts. He could take Roberto’s desk job…But no, the light was extinguished as soon as it was lit. He wouldn’t be able to negotiate a wheelchair on and off a bus. He’d be housebound. He’d need a carer. How would he wash himself, or cook, or move around his tiny flat?

“I’ll see what I can do about the reporters” Ermal said, drawing him out of his spiralling thoughts. He was already gone when Fabrizio looked up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The work begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Like the last chapter, this one continues immediately after the one prior, but the pace of the story should hopefully pick up a gear now. I really wanted to do this plot line justice, but there's good news for those of you waiting for more Fabrizio and Ermal interaction. From now they will be spending much more time together. First, however, there's a bit of work to do. I hope you enjoy and if so, please leave a comment in the little box down there. Everything from a sentence to a 3,000 word essay is loved :)

The next day, Rome was furiously battered by storms. Fabrizio was woken by the sound of thunder and stared, open-mouthed, at grey-skied Armageddon outside his window. When he grabbed for the remote control, he found that the TV wasn’t working. He pushed the call button and a harassed-looking nurse poked her head into his room. He immediately felt awful about calling her.

“What’s happened? Has the power gone out?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry. The hospital has emergency generators.”

“Do you have a phone so I can call my family? I don’t want them travelling in this weather.”

“The official advice is to stay inside unless your journey is absolutely essential” she replied.

“My parents will still try to visit me. Do you have a phone?”

He could see the impatience on her face, but to her credit, she remained helpful. “I’ll look in the nurses’ station, but it might take some time.”

He nodded and she left the room. He sat back on the pillows and looked out of the window. Lightning cracked across the sky. It was only mid-morning and it looked like evening outside.

“Isn’t it amazing? There’s nothing better than watching a storm when you’re safe indoors.”

“Did you do this?” Fabrizio asked without turning his head.

“They’re gone,” Ermal replied, answering a different question than the one he was asked. “They ran off like little rabbits. By the time the weather clears, something else will have happened in the world.”

“I think this weather is the new story. This is freakish,” Fabrizio insisted. “This has to be you.” He turned to face the angel, scowling angrily. “Do you know how dangerous this is? You could cause a car accident. You could destroy a house. If you bring down power cables…”

“And yet I haven’t,” Ermal interrupted. “What would you have preferred, an earthquake in the centre of Rome? I had to do something spectacular. I mean, they would have got bored of you if you’d just given them enough time. You’re not very interesting, after all, but you did insist that they left immediately and so…” He spread his arms out once again. “I am doing my fucking job. Anyway,” He came forward and dug into a brown leather satchel on his shoulder, the kind once carried by paperboys. “I’m not staying. I don’t think anything will be happening today. Since the TV isn’t working and you won’t be getting any visitors, I brought this so you have something to amuse yourself with.”

He tossed something on the bed and Fabrizio leaned forward. It was a comic book. 'Batman' was written boldly on the front and every one of the caped crusader’s muscles was lovingly rendered, as he grimaced furiously in the middle of driving rain.

“I don’t…”

He looked up and the room was empty. The door opened a second later and the same nurse appeared, holding a bright yellow phone.

As promised, he called his mother first and told her not to even think about going outside. She surprised him by replying that she had no intention of going out in such unsafe weather, not even for grocery shopping, and her husband was in agreement. He didn’t bother to call his siblings or friends. If his parents weren’t willing to step through their front door, they certainly wouldn’t be. Nevertheless he held onto the phone, glancing at the door and listening for footsteps outside to check whether the nurse was coming back for it any time soon. After a minute, he realised that he was wasting time with his indecision and simply dialled.

Giada picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” She sounded harassed, like she was in a rush. Maybe this wasn’t a good time, he thought guiltily. “Giada, sorry, I just…”

She spoke over him. “Hi Fabrizio, how are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Still in hospital, but I’m going to be okay.”

“Well, thank goodness. I was so worried when I heard you were involved. Your mother said you were in the hospital, but I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“Are the kids with you?” he asked.

“Anita’s at a sleepover, but Libero is here. I’ll put him on.”

There was a crackle and he heard her walking away, her distant voice saying something, and then footsteps getting closer and the phone being lifted.

“Dad?”

It felt like too long since he’d heard his son’s voice and suddenly he wanted to cry. The whole thing seemed so real now. For the first time, he realised how easily he could have died. How could he have been so stupid? He’d already abandoned them once and to risk doing it again, this time forever, was unforgivable.

“Hi Lib” he said, trying to keep his voice strong and calm.

“Are you okay, Dad?” his son asked immediately. That was always the first question out of his mouth whenever they spoke. Fabrizio remembered picking his son up from school on the Monday after he moved out of the house, how Libero had been eerily calm and questioned him about where he was living and if he was going to be okay on his own, only crying when Fabrizio tried to leave before Giada came back. Ever since then, he asked after his father’s health during every conversation and had insisted that Fabrizio came over for a home-cooked meal at least once a week, until that became impossible. On one hand, Fabrizio admired his son’s caring nature, but on the other he hated to see him worry so much about things that were out of his control.

“I’m fine” he answered.

“Mum said you were in the hospital” Libero remarked, never one to be deflected.

“I am, but it’s nothing to worry about, just a few scratches.”

“How long will you be there?”

“I don’t know, probably only a few days.”

“Can we come and see you?”

“No, it’s too far and you’d be so bored here. I know I am.” He’d hoped to raise a chuckle with that, and fortunately he did, albeit a quiet one. “How is school?” he probed, trying to change the subject.

“It’s fine,” Libero replied immediately, and then sighed. “It’s boring. Our science teacher just makes us write everything off the board. We don’t do any experiments or anything.”

“That sounds very boring,” Fabrizio agreed sympathetically. “How did your last match go?”

“We lost.”

“Oh, I’m sorry” Fabrizio said, unsure of how to respond. He felt like an idiot. Logically he knew it wasn’t his fault that he was behind the times, after a busy week and then the horror that had followed, but Libero was very impatient about discussing old news. If he’d told one parent, he expected the other to be informed by telepathy.

“When can you come and see us?” his son asked, now taking his turn to change the subject.

“I’ll be there for Ani’s birthday. We can spend some time together.”

“Do you promise?”

That hurt. Even though he knew where it was coming from, he hated to think that his son felt neglected in any way. In a way he was, but every time Fabrizio had the thought that it was ridiculous not to be with his family, the practical implications would immediately come to mind and he’d be frightened into staying in the same miserable position that he was already in.

“I promise,” he said. “We’ll go wherever you want.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Libero.” He never said that enough. He preferred to demonstrate love, but now that he was no longer in a position to do that, he found himself forcing the words out more often. He was sure that Libero could see through him, and sure enough, his son was quiet for a fraction too long.

“Yeah,” he said. “Can we come and see you for Christmas?”

“Um, I’ll ask your mother. I could come up to see you…”

“No, I want to come down to you,” Libero interrupted. “I don’t like Milan.”

“We’ll sort something out” he promised.

“Okay. I have to go now, Dad. I have football training, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Keep me up to date on any news” Fabrizio said quickly, knowing from that tone of voice that the phone was about to be hung up immediately.

“I will” Libero said. The line went dead. Fabrizio sighed deeply and pressed the call button to bring the nurse in.

**

The storm cleared after only one day, but Ermal was right. The journalists didn’t return. Fabrizio was bed-bound for another four days, visited religiously by his parents and three times by his siblings. His friends came to see him on a rota basis, one each day. And always, always, Ermal would come. He had a freaky ability to simply appear, so that Fabrizio would close his eyes for a moment and open them to find the curly-haired man in the room.

The angel was supremely disinterested. Often he only spoke to ask Fabrizio how he was and if he wanted anything, and when the answer was invariably no, he would sit on the windowsill and draw glasses and moustaches on people in magazines. Fabrizio spent these visits reading the books that Claudio brought in for him. He asked once why Ermal hung around so much, and the angel replied “Staying ready for action” without looking up. For the most part, though, they pretended the other wasn't there.

That weekend, the nurses came for him. Ermal was there at the time, fashioning paper planes and throwing them out of the window to see how far they went. He looked up from his latest design when the door opened.

“It's time for your physiotherapy to begin, Mister Mobrici” the nurse in front said, with a bright smile that did nothing to hide the steel in her eyes. She pulled off the blanket while another nurse presented him with a wheelchair.

“I don't feel strong enough to try walking yet” he protested.

“All the more reason to begin,” she insisted. “Any longer in bed and your muscles could atrophy.”

“That would be a shame," Ermal remarked. He jumped off the windowsill. "Come on, Bizio. I can come as moral support, right?”

The nurses eyed each other, but didn't refuse. Fabrizio couldn't think of a reason to say no either, although his head was still reeling a bit from the casual 'Bizio'. Nobody had ever called him that. If he was addressed familiarly at all, it was by an abbreviation, not a nickname. He suddenly wondered why he'd never had a nickname.

**

“I can't” Fabrizio insisted. He couldn’t believe how difficult it was. He knew exactly what he wanted to do and willed his legs to move, but somehow the signal wasn’t getting through. They felt numb and tingly, and when he told the doctor, her eyes lit up.

“They tingle? So you can feel them?”

“They really hurt. I can’t stand up.”

“Hold onto the bars,” she insisted. “Put down one foot and use it as support to shuffle the other one forward.”

He was already holding onto the bars and bit his tongue to avoid snapping at her. The bars weren’t helping. Yes, they were keeping him upright, but at what cost? His legs were shaking and his nerves were shrieking with pain. He had to look down constantly to make sure his feet were flat and he hadn’t turned onto his ankle, because his joints seemed so disconnected from each other that it would be an easy mistake to make. He pushed his weight onto one foot and immediately cried out in pain, tightening his grip on the bars and almost bending double. He heard a sob escape his throat and hated himself for his weakness.

“I can’t! I can’t do it! Please…Please don’t make me do it.”

“You have to, Mr Mobrici,” she said. “It’s the only way to regain use of your legs. I know it’s difficult, but you have to try.”

To his surprise, Ermal came forward and offered his hands. He did so with an impatient sigh, but at least the invite was there. Fabrizio grasped them both and moved forward with the gait of an arthritic penguin, Ermal moving back step by step to encourage him. At one point the angel moved too fast and Fabrizio nearly fell. He released one hand and clung on to the wooden bar. He was walking, he thought. He was hunched over and unable to lift his feet, only to push them along the floor, but he was moving already. He reached the end of the line and Ermal released him. He grabbed the bars gratefully and held himself upright, terrified of crashing to the ground if he let go.

“Now again.”

Fabrizio was sweating from pain and exhaustion. “No, not again. I can’t.”

They did it again, of course, and again until Fabrizio nearly fell and was permitted to return to his wheelchair. From then on, he had physiotherapy every day and Ermal was remarkably engaged with it. His 'guardian angel' preferred to read under normal circumstances- he had a particular love for the classics, as Fabrizio found out- but when it came time for physiotherapy, he was more dedicated than the doctor herself.

Not only did Ermal support him physically and offer advice, he also made him practice outside therapy. When the nurses got him out of bed for his bath, Ermal wouldn't let him use the wheelchair and instead made him walk. The odd thing was that it worked. Fabrizio would start out frozen and unable to move, but by using the bed as a support and shuffling, something would click into place and he'd find himself able to limp down the corridor unaided.

When he complained of the pain in his tingling nerves at night, Ermal would even give him massages. He would firmly rub along Fabrizio's back, his hips and down the length of his legs to his feet. It was uncomfortable, but not painful, and his nerves would stop screaming within minutes of Ermal touching him. He was starting to think that the angel had lied, and he did have some form of magic.

“Why are you doing this?” he dared to ask one night. He’d almost done so a couple of times already, but fear of offending the angel and losing his admittedly effective help had stilled his tongue. Eventually, though, Ermal’s contradictory behaviour had gotten the better of him.

“Why wouldn't I?” the angel replied, pressing his thumbs into the back of Fabrizio’s knees.

“You don't seem to like me.”

“You've given me no reason to dislike you. Besides, I wouldn't leave someone paralysed because I disliked them. That's just evil.”

“You said you couldn't help me” Fabrizio pointed out.

“I said you needed to do physio. I didn't say I couldn't speed up the process. What's that line, I'm a doctor not a miracle worker?”

“You're an angel, aren't you? You should be able to work miracles.”

He cried out as Ermal pushed down hard on a sensitive spot. “Sorry,” he said. “You need to rethink what you know about angels.”

“I don't know anything about them. Tell me.”

Once again, he heard that unhappy sigh that had become so familiar over the past few weeks. The hands moved to his back, which was secretly Fabrizio’s favourite place to be massaged. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have a favourite place or gain any enjoyment from something that was meant for a purely medical purpose, but Ermal had a delicate touch when he wanted to employ it, and he was very gentle with Fabrizio’s spine. It was quite reminiscent of a spa treatment.

“We don't have any power over humans,” he replied. “All we can do is guide them, give them a bit of luck when they need it, and the rest is up to them.”

“You've helped me a lot already, with the physio and getting rid of those reporters,” Fabrizio said, closing his eyes and sighing as Ermal rubbed his shoulder blades. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Yes. Thank...” He turned, but the room was already empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Commence the co-habitation!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio returns home with his newly acquired companion. Will they be two peas in a pod, or two cats in a bag?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you had a good week, and if you didn't, at least it's over. Unless it's exam season for you, in which case, lots of love and good luck. You can do it! Thank you to Julia who gave me reasons to smile when I wanted to lie face down on the floor over the past few days, and also to the people who read and comment because your support means the world. Please enjoy the latest instalment in our hapless hero's journey :)

Time passed. His family continued to visit him every day, although increasingly they would simply sit there and be with him. All topics of conversation had been exhausted long ago. When his friends came, twice and then once a week, they would talk non-stop about everything that had happened since their last visit. Fabrizio suspected that they saved up every event that could possibly be called interesting for these visits. He appreciated their effort, albeit it was sometimes a struggle to remain engaged. Andrea had accidentally spilled coffee over a barista, but she wasn’t going to make him pay for cleaning? On one hand, how unfortunate, but on the other, that was good. Roberto had saved some woman from missing the train by sticking his foot in the door? That was nice, hopefully he hadn’t been hurt. Alessandro had left the bar and found a taxi right outside, and how lucky was that? Very lucky.

To his surprise, he found that his preferred visitor was Ermal. Not because Ermal cheered him up, quite the opposite, because Ermal didn’t even try. He arrived after normal visiting hours to help with walking practice before bed and he would be there in the early morning, reading books he’d taken from the hospital library, before visiting hours would begin and he’d vanish again. He was so unobtrusive. With him, there was silence and no beady eyes watching Fabrizio’s reactions. With him, he could process his thoughts and cry without anyone begging him to stop because it made them uncomfortable. Ermal simply acted like it wasn’t happening and Fabrizio appreciated that more than he could say. He just wanted to be invisible.

Physiotherapy continued daily. The doctors said that his progress was better than they’d ever seen. They stopped short of calling him a medical miracle, because apparently his spinal cord hadn’t been damaged severely enough that permanent paralysis was a certainty, but it usually took months of concentrated work to get to this point. Instead, after six weeks, he was regarded as well enough to go home. When pushed by an anxious mother, the doctor admitted that he would still need a stick to walk until his muscles regained strength, and he shouldn’t drive for the foreseeable future. Physiotherapy appointments and check-ups would continue to be arranged, but she couldn’t see any further reason to keep him in a hospital bed.

“He is going to need some practical assistance for a while,” she warned. “Things like housework, cooking and getting around.”

“Don’t worry, son,” his mother told him later. “Your family will rally around. Your bedroom is already made up for you.”

“What?” Fabrizio looked up from tying his shoes. They were somewhat redundant since he would be leaving hospital in a chair, but it felt good not to be wearing slippers. His feet immediately felt much warmer. “No, I’d rather just go back to my own house.”

“You’re in no fit state to live alone. Your father and I will take care of you until you’re better.”

“I really think…”

He broke off as the door opened, and his mouth fell open when Ermal stepped into the room, wearing a nurse’s scrubs. “Mr and Mrs Mobrici?” he said, approaching with his hand outstretched. “My name is Ermal Meta. I am Fabrizio’s nurse. I’ve been assigned to do home visits until he’s well enough to live independently again.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. He can stay with us while he gathers his strength” his mother replied.

“I think Fabrizio’s case warrants some professional assistance. The road to recovery will be long and hard.”

“We can manage. We’re his parents.”

Ermal paused and gave a tight smile, evidently unhappy with the resistance. “So you’ll be able to manage supporting him to the bathroom, washing him and helping him use the toilet?” he queried.

Fabrizio noticed his father’s eyes widen with alarm. “Things aren’t as bad as that. The physiotherapy has been progressing well.”

Ermal looked at him and smiled reassuringly. “Yes, but he’s still unsteady on his feet and stairs would be too much to handle in his condition. I understand he lives in a ground floor flat. We believe that would be much better suited to his needs.”

His parents hesitated, looking at each other, and Fabrizio watched them make two different decisions. His father’s face became resigned, his mother’s became stony.

“Alright, if you say so, but we’ll still be the ones taking care of him” she declared.

“Marisa, he lives on the other side of the city” her husband said.

“And you can’t drive,” Fabrizio interjected. “I need someone to take me to work. The bus isn’t an option right now.”

His mother looked horrified. “You’re not thinking of going back to work so soon?”

“I have to. I need to pay my bills and there are clients who need me. I’ve neglected them long enough, I’ve put extra burdens on Claudio and Roberto while I’ve been in here, and I need to get back on track.”

“Could Claudio move in with you again?” she asked. “He did such a good job last time. I would feel more comfortable knowing you had someone familiar around you.”

“This situation is nothing like last time,” Fabrizio retorted. “Claudio stayed with me for three days. He didn’t move in, and he didn’t need to do anything. I need actual medical assistance, and…and Ermal is a qualified nurse. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

The lie tripped slightly on his tongue and he hoped no-one had noticed. He met the fake nurse’s eye and received a secret wink in response. At last, his mother sighed resignedly. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll come home with you today,” she said quickly. “I’ll cook some meals for you and tidy the place up at least. I’m sure Ermal would appreciate the assistance.” She looked at Ermal sternly, clearly giving him no option but to accept.

“If you’re offering, I won’t say no,” he replied easily. “Fabrizio, I’ll let you get settled in and then I’ll come and see you. Is that okay?”  
“Yeah, sure.”  
“Let me call you a taxi.”  
With one more beaming and utterly fake smile, he withdrew.

**

Fabrizio felt like a child sandwiched in between his parents in the taxi. In fact, it gave him flashbacks to his younger days when they would collect him from the police station and the three of them would ride home in silence, neither of his parents looking at him and all of them afraid to speak in case the tension in the car exploded into full-blown fury. The silence was now caused by concern rather than disappointment, but Fabrizio hated the feeling anyway.

“Oh, Fabrizio, I’ve suddenly realised that you don’t have food in the house,” his mother said suddenly, and leaned forward to tap the taxi driver’s shoulder. “Excuse me, can you stop at the nearest butcher?”

“I’m not really hungry” Fabrizio said.

“You need to eat, love. How about a leg of lamb? You love that.”

He hadn’t eaten lamb for months, but her maternal drive to feed was a powerful force and the trio in the taxi were soon joined by a smelly package of raw meat. They arrived back at his flat and his father helped him out, holding his arm until he felt confident enough to move his feet, hovering nearby as he limped across the courtyard. When he reached the side door leading directly into the flat, he came up against his first issue, mainly the three steps that separated his home from the garden. Once again his father had to hold his arm and Fabrizio felt like a toddler learning how to walk. He fumbled for his keys and managed to unlock the door. His mother took charge as soon as they were inside.

“You sit down there. I’ll make you some food” she instructed, as his father hurried him into the living room and directed him to the armchair.

“You really don’t have to…” he insisted.

“Sweetheart, you’ve lived on that hospital food for long enough. Look at you, skin and bones. A mother’s home cooking is what you need.”

“I can just order a pizza in.”

“A pizza?” She appeared in the living room, having somehow gotten hold of a wooden spoon, and shook it disapprovingly. “That’s not a dinner, Fabrizio. You need to keep your strength up.”

“Mamma, that’s really not necessary” he called, but she’d already gone back to the kitchen. “Let her do her thing, son,” his father said. “Do you mind if I turn your heating on? It’s freezing in here.”

“Yeah” Fabrizio agreed, crossing his arms and trying to surreptitiously rub them. His father went over to the electric meter, pondered it for a moment and turned a dial, then went over to the airing cupboard. He returned with a tartan woollen blanket, bearing it shyly in front of him, and put it over Fabrizio. He had never used this blanket for its intended purpose before. Typically it was the setting for Anita’s toy picnics, but he had to admit it was a good insulator. He looked down at the red and black checked pattern and thought that his transformation into an old man was almost complete. He even had a stick resting beside his chair, for God’s sake. All he needed now was a stove pipe and he would have become his grandfather. The thought was depressing.

His father lowered himself onto the sofa with a grunt, as his mother returned from the kitchen. “Fabrizio, where’s your tinfoil?” she asked.

“I don’t have any.”

“No tinfoil? How do you cook your Sunday roast?”

“I don’t have a Sunday roast.”

She looked as scandalised as if he’d said he didn’t go to Mass, which he didn’t. He hoped she wouldn’t find that out as well. “How long has it been since you stopped eating properly?” she asked.

He shrugged carelessly. “I don’t know, probably since I stopped having a reason to cook. Why would I make a whole leg of lamb just for me?”

His mother actually leaned sideways and held onto the doorframe. It was hard to know if she was genuinely so shocked or simply being dramatic. She’d always had a tendency to exaggerate. “I can come over on Sunday…” she began.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I hadn’t thought this needed to be said, but just in case, I am forty-four years old and I do not need my mother cooking for me.”

The silence which followed was the real deal, sincere horror. Nobody spoke to Marisa Mobrici like that without suffering the consequences, the consequences being a guilt trip so prolonged that they would rather have cut out their own tongue than voice their unedited opinion by the end.

“I’m sorry, Mamma. I don’t mean to be so harsh. I just…”

“It’s okay, darling,” she interrupted. “You’ve been through a lot. If you don’t feel like eating right now, that’s okay. Would you like to rest?”

“No, I’m fine.”

She nodded and then gestured for her husband to stand, coming over to Fabrizio to give him a hug. “Make sure you tell that nurse to cook you something if you’re hungry,” she said quietly. “Please don’t eat a pizza and nothing else. And make sure that you rest.”

“I will” he promised. He had nothing else to do.  
“See you soon, love.”  
“Bye.”

And then, with a sad look and a wave, they were gone and he was alone once more. He would have to call her in the next few days to offer a proper apology, he thought. He should call Giada to tell her he was out of hospital too, so she could tell the kids. How soon would he be expected back at work? If the decision was up to Claudio and Roberto, he wouldn’t have to worry. They were his friends, they’d have his back, but the city council were always looking for ways to save money and if his job was vacant for too long, they would jump on the opportunity to downsize the centre. Why didn’t he ask for the phone before his parents left? He looked down at his stick and wondered if he could make it to the phone and back. If he fell, it might be a long time before someone came to help. Being found sprawled on the floor would be the final humiliation.

He glanced up and shrieked. Ermal had materialised in the centre of the room.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that” Fabrizio snapped, pressing a hand to his chest. The walls in the building were thin enough that he could hear arguments, children crying, the person above him walking around their room at 3am and the music tastes of the students across the hall. If anyone was home, they would certainly have heard him yelp at nothing.

“I was saving you from having to get up and open the door,” Ermal replied. “I saw your parents leaving. I didn’t want to come in while they were here because, you know, logically it would make more sense for me to be here when they’re not. So when they do turn up, you can say it’s a visit. It might be a bit weird if they knew I was living here. See, I’ve thought this through.”

“You’re going to live here?”

“Yeah. Guardian angel, here for all your needs, which means I have to be here.”

“I only have one bed” Fabrizio pointed out. Frankly this flat was so small that two people sharing the space would get tiresome after a few hours, never mind however long Ermal planned to stay, but the bed problem seemed like the most immediate issue.

“Oh. Well, it’s not the first time” the angel replied casually.

“No! I…You can sleep on the sofa if you have to. I just need to get blankets…” He started to lift himself from the chair, but to his surprise and consternation, Ermal pushed him back. “Stay down and tell me where they are” he ordered.

“In the cupboard outside the bathroom. Do angels even sleep?” he added as Ermal went over to the airing cupboard.

“It’s an option. We can stay awake as long as we have to, but it’s nice to lie on a soft surface and dream.”

“Okay. Did you get the pillows too?”

“Pillows…Yes. Hey, you don’t have any bedclothes for them.”

“Sorry about that, I threw them away. I’ll order something off Amazon tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need them.” Ermal came back and dumped the pillows and duvet in an untidy pile on the sofa, sitting down and spreading his arms out on either side of him.

“Where did you get that uniform?” Fabrizio asked. “Did you steal it?”

Ermal looked at him sideways and smiled, and then clicked his fingers. The nurse’s uniform immediately became a blue three-piece suit. Fabrizio lifted his eyebrows, surprised and impressed. Ermal pointedly looked him over and then clicked his fingers again. At once he was dressed in the same outfit as Fabrizio, black T-shirt complete with a pink slogan on the front, and dark jeans.

“It must be easy for you to get dressed in the mornings” Fabrizio remarked.

“You’d be surprised” Ermal replied, tossing his hair. Fabrizio was astonished at how thick and…fluffy it was! There was no other word to describe it but fluffy. He could lose his hand in there, he thought, not that he would want to put his hand in a virtual stranger’s hair. He didn’t know why he’d let that thought cross his mind.

“Can you get me the phone?” he asked. Ermal stood up, retrieved it and handed it over. Alright, so who should he call first?

“I’m going to order a pizza. Do you want anything?”

Ermal looked at him in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes. Do angels eat?”

“We don’t have to, but the taste is nice.”

“So do you want something?”

The angel narrowed his eyes as if Fabrizio had somehow caused offence, although he wasn’t sure how he’d managed that. “I like Margherita” he said at last.

“Classic. Me too. We can share then.” Fabrizio dialled through to Dino’s Pizza, which was right at the bottom of the road and would only take about six minutes to walk to, if he felt able to do that. He hoped Dino wouldn’t think he was lazy for asking a delivery bike to come up here. “Hi Dino, can I order a twelve inch Margherita? Yes, that’s all. Um…Do you want garlic bread?” he asked Ermal. The angel shrugged and Fabrizio barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How helpful. “No bread then. Can I have it delivered? Thanks so much. See you soon.”

He hung up the phone and saw Ermal looking at him like he had three heads. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Most people don’t offer me food.”

“Why not? Is that a bad thing to do?”

“No, they just assume I don’t eat.”

“Without asking?”  
Ermal nodded.  
“Well, that’s very rude, especially to a guest. I won’t do that, I promise.”

“You’re not what I expected either” the angel said.

Fabrizio looked at him and Ermal swiftly averted his eyes, as if he’d let a secret slip. There was something intriguing about him. It was strange to realise that they’d met each other over a month ago, and yet Fabrizio knew hardly anything about him. Ermal didn’t seem like the sort who was inclined to open up to strangers, but it still felt like an oversight that they should still be strangers after spending so much time together. It seemed like an especially untenable position if Ermal planned to live with him.

“Ermal, can I ask you something?”

The angel looked back at him, surprised. “Sure.”

“What kind of people do you normally look after?”

“People like you, heroes” he answered with a shrug.

“I’m not…”

“Shh,” he interrupted impatiently, waving his arm. “I mean people who’ve saved others at the expense of their own lives. It’s a shorthand term. I’ve had one guy save a girl from a burning building, one guy who dived into a river to save a bus full of children, a girl who saved twenty people from a fire at a guest house…It turned out that she’d set the fire for the glory.”

“No!” Fabrizio gasped.

“Yeah, hardly anyone becomes a hero for a selfless reason. Most of them end up losing their angels eventually. I’ve started to look for clues whenever I’m assigned a new job.”

“What’s my clue?” he asked. Ermal paused for slightly longer than was comfortable. “You don’t have one yet, but there’s still time.”

“If you dislike humans so much, why do you keep doing this job?” Fabrizio queried.

“I have bills to pay” Ermal said dismissively.

“You absolutely do not.”

“How do you know?” he demanded. “Do you think the heating bill for an endless expanse of sky is cheap?”

He smiled as he spoke, however, and his whole face changed. The closed-off and grumpy expression, demanding to know why the person in front of him was using up his valuable time, softened into something much more youthful and friendly. Fabrizio found himself smiling back. The moment was broken by the sound of the doorbell and both of them looked towards the window.

“Will I…?”

“I can do it,” Fabrizio assured him, levering himself up and trying not to show how difficult it was. “I’ve got to practice with these legs anyway.”

He waddled out of the flat and down the hall to the front door, almost throwing himself into the pizza boy’s arms. He paid by card and was glad not to have ordered the garlic bread. One hot box, balanced on his palm as he turned back to the flat, was difficult enough. He kicked the door gently and Ermal opened it, removing the pizza box from his hand and placing it on the coffee table, and then went over to the mantelpiece.

“Is this you?” he asked. Fabrizio moved across the room to see what he was looking at, and his blood chilled in an instant.

“Oh. Yes, that’s me.”

“You were a figure skater. That’s impressive” Ermal said, smirking over his shoulder.

“It was a long time ago.” Fabrizio turned away and sat down heavily on the sofa, leaning over to open the pizza box, and hoped that the food would draw Ermal away. It didn’t. When he looked up, the angel was actually holding one of the frames.

“I can tell,” he said cheerfully. “Look at you. Who would have guessed this skinny twig would grow up into…” He glanced at Fabrizio and grinned. “Well, you? You must have been good, judging by these trophies.”

“I was okay.”

Ermal was suddenly sitting next to him, still holding the photo. Fabrizio’s eyes fell on the silver frame and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for it. Why did he still have this photo? Why did he keep the trophies? He never looked at them unless some visitor brought his attention to them, an event that was increasingly rare these days, and they only ever made him feel sad. He gazed at his younger self. He really was a skinny twig back then, dressed in ridiculous skintight sparkly things, showing off. He couldn’t have been more of an attention-seeker if he’d tried.

“Are you okay?” Ermal asked, looking at him with concern.

“I was just remembering. That was the last time I was on the ice. I was about twelve or thirteen, I think.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I twisted my ankle.”

“Ouch!” Ermal winced sympathetically. “It’s funny how the strongest humans have the most fragile bodies,” he added conversationally. “Maybe it’s because you push them to the limit so much. One injury and it’s all over.”

“I could have gone back. My coach wanted me to, but I couldn’t…”

“Were you afraid of the pain? That can happen too. Even if the injury isn’t so bad, the knowledge of what can happen stops people returning to their best.”

“That wasn’t the reason.”

Ermal deliberately shifted closer and put his chin in his hands, like a child awaiting a bedtime story. It was almost enough to raise a smile. Fabrizio looked down at the photo as he spoke, carefully picking his way through the words.

“I fell because…just before I went on the ice, my father came up to me and asked when I was going to stop wasting money and taking my mother’s attention away from my siblings. It put me off, and afterwards, I couldn’t…I never knew that he resented my ice skating. I always thought my family supported me. I realised that I had it all wrong then.”

The memory was back in full force and it was ridiculous that it could still sting even now. He could remember his excitement, seeing his father approach and expecting to receive a message of good luck, and instead hearing those bitter words that had sucked all the joy out of the occasion. He could never look at the rink again without hearing those words. He hadn’t stepped back onto the ice until Libero was four.

“Bastard.”

Fabrizio flinched in shock, staring at the angel, unsure of he’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“Your father, he’s a bastard,” Ermal enunciated carefully. “Fucking humans.”

“Don’t talk about my father like that.”

“Why are you defending him? He crushed your dreams.”

“He didn’t crush my dreams. He was right. I was never going to make it professionally…”

“How do you know that?” Suddenly Ermal was on his feet, looking furious. He swung his arm towards the mantelpiece. “Look at these trophies! You cried to me in the hospital about never achieving anything in your life, but this is what you did! This is what you could have done, and your father took that away for spite!”

“He didn’t force me to quit. It was my choice.”

“Oh, sure,” Ermal retorted contemptuously. “Am I talking to the same man who grieved the death of a stranger and completely disregarded his own survival? You made food for me.”

“I ordered pizza. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is! Do you think your father didn’t know you’d quit skating if he made you feel bad about it? Honestly, the depth of humans’ selfishness amazes me every time. As soon as your kind gets any power over someone else, it goes straight to their heads. Do you know why nearly everyone who’s assigned a guardian angel eventually loses them? It’s because they can’t resist the temptation to treat a heaven-sent gift like a celestial butler. As for the way they treat their own families, it’s shocking. I’m convinced that nearly everyone who has children is doing it so they can have control over someone.”

He was pacing around the room, shouting and spitting. In the back of his head, Fabrizio worried about the neighbours hearing all of this, but he was more immediately concerned with his own safety. Ermal was terrifying. He hated humans, Fabrizio realised. He loathed them. And now they were trapped in this tiny space together.

“I wish I hadn’t said anything now” he whispered. Ermal stopped moving and turned slowly towards him. The sight of Fabrizio pressed back against the sofa, holding a cushion as if it might act as a shield, seemed to surprise him. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and emotionless.

“I’m delighted you did.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way to a man's heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was a success beyond my imagination! Thanks so much to everyone who read, commented, left kudos and even bookmarked and subscribed to me! Another box is ticked off the bucket list :D Please enjoy.

For the rest of the evening, a tentative peace was restored by observing hospital rules, in other words ignoring each other. Ermal lay on the sofa and read while Fabrizio listened to music on the laptop. He did not have a pair of headphones, never having need of them while living alone, so he turned the music down to its lowest setting. Nevertheless he glanced up to see Ermal bobbing his head slightly.

“Is it disturbing you?”

“No, it’s okay” the angel replied.

“If there’s anything you’d like to listen to, tell me.”

There was a long silence and Fabrizio looked again. Ermal had sat up from his horizontal position and was holding onto his toes, wearing the same suspicious expression as he had when pizza had been offered. “Do you have anything…classical?” he asked after a moment. “Piano, violin, something like that?”

Fabrizio nodded and turned back to YouTube. He typed ‘classical music’ into the search bar and scrolled briefly through the suggested options. “There are a lot of old symphonies if you have a favourite.”

“No, I like songs, just not the ones you hear on the radio all the time. You know, those dum-dum-dum heavy beats. I don’t like those” Ermal explained.

Fabrizio considered the problem, and then a brainwave struck. He typed a few suggestions into the search bar and one option kept reappearing. “I think I might know something you’d like” he said, and clicked on a song at random.

It began as a vaguely familiar symphony, an upbeat cheery tune led by the violin and cello, accompanied by a soft guitar. Ermal was smiling slightly as he listened. Nearly three minutes in, it abruptly changed to the opening bars of ‘Enter Sandman’ and instrumental supremacy switched to the piano and guitar. The cello became faster and more frantic to keep up. The violin was replaced by a saxophone. Ermal’s eyes widened in surprise and appreciation. By the five minute mark, he was tapping his foot on the floor with a huge grin.

“What’s that?” he asked. Fabrizio looked down at the video. “They’re called Stelis Ornata. They’re a fusion of classic and rock” he reported.  
“They’re good.”  
“Come here.” Ermal obediently stood and came over to the armchair. Fabrizio pointed to the screen. “This is their playlist. You can pick and choose the songs, or you can let them play in order.”

He got up then and gestured for Ermal to sit in his place. “Where are you going?” the angel asked.

“You may not need to sleep, but I do. Don’t put the volume up too high.”

It was weird to be back in his room. The bed felt too soft now. He was alarmed at how much the mattress sank to accommodate him, and how far his head was absorbed by the pillows. The duvet felt thick and heavy, and the bed itself was so big. He could roll from one side to the other without falling out. That was ridiculous. He didn’t like it, much to his surprise, after over a month of lying in a bed that felt too small for him. It was lonely. All of the space was unnecessary. For a second, only a second, he considered asking Ermal if he wanted to share after all. That idea was swiftly discarded. A stranger in his bed? Not a chance. He wouldn’t mind if Ermal wanted to move into a sleeping bag on the floor though, he admitted. He’d rather not be alone, but wanting someone in the room while keeping the bed for himself was self-absorbed and exactly the kind of request that would earn him a vicious tongue lashing.

He forced his eyes to close. All beds were alike in sleep. He only had to empty his mind and allow himself to drop off. That proved easier said than done. His brain was fully alert and crammed full of thoughts that refused to let him rest.

He should have called Giada and his work. Why had he forgotten that? Ermal took up so much of his headspace that it had entirely slipped his mind. That was another problem to consider, how they were going to tolerate each other when neither of them wanted to be in this situation.

What if he couldn’t work anymore? What if he lost his job? He glanced in the direction of the photos. At least he could go and be bankrupt in Milan if it came down to that. What a great father figure he would make then. Okay, sleep now, really. He closed his eyes again, but without the power of sight, his hearing sharpened. He could hear cars outside, faint music playing, thumps…Loud thumps, very close by, coming from inside the room.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He jolted upright, turning his head wildly from side to side. In the darkness he saw him, the silhouette of a man standing in the corner. Frozen in fear, he stared and stared until more than a full minute had gone by and he slowly realised that the man wasn’t moving at all. He blinked and the silhouette vanished, revealing itself to be an empty patch of darkness between the doorframe and the wall.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He looked up and finally identified the thumps, not as gunshots, but as his upstairs neighbour doing his usual mindless circuit of his flat. God knew what the man was trying to achieve by pacing in the middle of the night, but Fabrizio wished that he wouldn’t walk as if he was trying to break through the floor. He fell back against the pillow, breathing deeply and rubbing his eyes. Everything was okay. He was home, he was safe, nothing was going to happen. If that guy upstairs would be kind enough to shut up and go to bed like a decent person in the next hour, Fabrizio still had a chance of some rest.

Everything was not okay. Long after everyone else in the building had gone to bed, including the man walking his horse up there, Fabrizio was still awake. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. His mind was wide awake now, not necessarily thinking of anything, just simply awake. It wanted to get out of bed and do something, but it was the middle of the night and Fabrizio couldn’t even take a walk around the flat because of his newly acquired guest. He rolled over once more and watched as blue light began to show against the curtains, indicating that night was drawing to a close. It couldn’t happen fast enough.

“Please let morning come soon,” he prayed desperately. “Please let morning come soon.”

“Fabrizio…” He turned towards the door and saw Ermal, leaning against the frame and rubbing his forehead. “I can hear you whispering in here. It’s keeping me awake.”

“Sorry.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “I was…I couldn’t get to sleep.”

Ermal hummed and came over to the bed. Without hesitating, he climbed on and leaned against the headboard. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fabrizio shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” He heard his voice breaking and lowered his head, covering his face with his hands, desperately trying not to let his mind overwhelm him again. He felt something touch the side of his head and looked up, just in time to see Ermal’s hand moving away. The angel folded his arms and faced the wall straight ahead.

“You need your sleep,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know what humans are like. You need to eat every few hours, you need to go unconscious every night, you need to pee so much that it’s almost not worth the inconvenience of leaving the house. It seems like a very inefficient method of survival, but I don’t make the rules.”

“I don’t know if I can go to sleep. My head is…” Fabrizio waved a hand vaguely and then slowly allowed his head to fall back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“I could make you have nice dreams, chase the bad stuff out.”

Fabrizio opened his eyes and frowned at the angel. “Can you do that?”

Ermal nodded. “What kind of thing do you like?”

“Um…I suppose I…” He was hesitating and he didn’t know why. The answer was clear. Was he worried about giving this piece of himself to Ermal? It wasn’t as if it was a closely guarded secret, but his earlier words were circling Fabrizio’s head.  
‘I’m convinced that nearly everyone who has children is doing it so they can have control over someone.’  
He assumed that Ermal was speaking from past experience, but that prejudice might bring scorn against Fabrizio or even his children. He wouldn’t be able to stand that. “My kids” he said simply, and waited for the hammer to fall.

“I didn’t know you had kids” Ermal remarked, not sounding judgemental to Fabrizio’s ears, merely surprised.

“Two, a boy and a girl. Libero and Anita.”

Ermal looked around the room and his gaze landed on the photos. “Is that them?”

“Yeah.”

The angel stood up and walked over to the drawers, selecting one frame and lifting it close to his face. Fabrizio could only make out his profile, but his teeth shone white when he smiled.  
“Your little girl is as cute as a button.”  
His voice was definitely gentle, even fond, and Fabrizio finally relaxed. “Yeah, and she knows it” he remarked. Ermal laughed slightly, squinted at the photo again, and then replaced it to return to the bed. He leaned against the headboard once more and patted Fabrizio’s pillow, indicating he should place his head upon it. He did so and closed his eyes.

He was on the beach. The air was warm and the sea made a gentle rushing sound as the tide struck the shore. Brightly coloured towels lay on the side, familiar towels; thick blue and yellow stripes on one, another pale orange, the third bearing an enormous image of Winnie the Pooh. None of them were occupied now though. He saw Libero first, sitting in the wooden cabana with a glass of lemonade in his hand, watching his little sister create pillars of sand with her bucket. She looked up at Fabrizio and then jumped to her feet, running towards him.

His heart melted at the sight of her. She was so small, barely more than a baby. When she stood in front of him, she only came up to his knees. She clung onto his leg and pulled, pointing out to sea. When he looked, he could determine what she was asking. Jet skis sped across the waves and parasailers soared in the sky above them.

“No, bambina. You’re too small.”

She pouted, deploying her lethal puppy eyes, which won her nothing except a big hug. Libero had noticed him by now, and came running over. His son too was smaller than he remembered, and so cute. His face was still round with baby fat, no sign of the sharper angles that were developing as he grew up. Fabrizio lifted one arm to pull him into the embrace, savouring the warmth of their little bodies. It had been too long since he held them like this.

“Papa, can we go in the sea?” Libero asked. Fabrizio duly stood up, lifting Anita and holding Libero’s hand, and paddled into the shallows with them. The water was shockingly cold against his legs, but it felt clean and fresh after the heat on the beach. He leaned over, keeping hold of Anita, so that she could skim her fingers across the surface. After a few seconds, the sea started to feel too cold to bear, so they returned to the cabana and ate gelato at a table on the deck. For just a moment, it seemed like the world was in perfect balance and Fabrizio felt true happiness.

 

**

He opened his eyes to a room bathed in soft yellow light, the sun now long since risen, and the bed beside him empty. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, taking the easiest breath he’d had in weeks. Even if it was only a dream, the warmth and happiness it brought clung to him, as did the vague taste of ice-cream in his mouth. He remembered that day. It hadn’t happened exactly as it had in the dream. For a start, Giada had been there. It was one of the last times they’d been out as a family of four. They had sat on the beach for hours, with Libero occasionally paddling in the sea, but mostly they had done nothing except rest in the sun and build sandcastles. Anita had tried to bury him in the sand, he recalled, grinning at the memory.

He went over to the photos and immediately found the right one, which had been replaced at a slight angle. The three of them were clearly shown on their distinctively patterned towels, Anita on his lap and Libero next to him. That explained a lot about how Ermal had gotten the details right. They looked so happy. He supposed that they had been. It was hard to remember now, it felt so long ago, but he had undoubtedly been content. He took another breath, marvelling at the champagne bubbles that arose in his stomach when his lungs expanded, and headed for the bedroom door. Immediately he tripped as one of his legs seized up and he grabbed the bedframe, glaring at his traitorous limbs. Not everything had changed overnight then.

Stick in hand, he attempted the journey a second time. He heard the sound of moving crockery in the kitchen when he opened the door, and immediately felt an urge for breakfast. It was very nice of the angel to prepare food, he thought. What was he making?  
“Ermal?”  
He walked into the kitchen and stopped dead, staring in horror at the sea of crumbs strewn across the worktop. Two loaves of bread were opened, and that was a miracle considering he hadn’t been shopping yesterday, and he counted ten huge wonky slices on plates. Each was more misshapen than the last and spread with strawberry jam, butter, Nutella, blackberry jam, cheese, cold chicken, mayonnaise…mint sauce?

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast,” the angel replied. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made it all. I can eat whatever you don’t.”

Fabrizio advanced and picked up the strawberry jam offering. It was almost circular and jam was oozing through the cracks. He had never seen a more revolting sandwich in his life. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like,” Ermal said. “It’s jam. If you like jam, it’ll taste nice.”

“I appreciate it, Ermal, but…I usually just go to the deli.”

“You don’t want any of this?”

“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” he said, carefully replacing the sandwich and licking jam off his fingers. “Why don’t you come with me and you can choose a sandwich too? Something that you really like, not only someone else’s leftovers.”

Ermal narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I eat, and I already made this” he insisted.

“I know, and we can have it for a snack later, but I need a proper breakfast” Fabrizio said. That defence seemed to work. The angel nodded and stuck the knife into the jam jar. Fabrizio winced. He was pretty sure there had already been butter on that. “Let me get dressed and we can go,” he said, beginning to turn before he remembered. “Oh, and thanks for last night.”

“Don’t mention it, really.”

To Fabrizio’s chagrin, it took twenty minutes to get dressed, and that was without showering first. He would need to adjust the time he woke up for work if this was a long-term problem, unless…No, he was not thinking about that again, not right now. Ermal was waiting in the living room when he emerged. The angel was now wearing a pair of black jeans, white T-shirt and grey denim jacket. He stood up as Fabrizio entered the room, and then did a double take.

“What are you wearing?”

Fabrizio looked down at himself, confused. “A shirt and jeans?”

“That’s not a shirt, it’s a vest, and is that paint?” Ermal took a step closer, peering at his trousers.

“It’s bleach. I was cleaning the shower and it splashed. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I look like. We’re going to a sandwich shop. What about you?” Fabrizio asked. “It’s twenty-six degrees outside. You don’t need a jacket.”

Ermal pulled his jacket around himself as if Fabrizio would try to take it away. “I don’t feel the changes in temperature and this is nice” he retorted.

“Alright, so we’re both making questionable fashion choices…”

Ermal pulled a face to indicate he did not agree. “I would tell you to get changed if you didn’t take so long in the first place” he remarked. Fabrizio barked with laughter. “You could try!”

“Well, you are a reflection on me,” the angel said. “However, you have to be fed. Shall we go?” He held the front door open and allowed Fabrizio to precede him. Once they were outside, Ermal linked their arms together and then laughed.  
“What is it?” Fabrizio asked.  
“I just feel like we should be skipping” the angel remarked.  
“Let’s not.”  
“Maybe when you don’t need the stick anymore.”  
“Probably not even then.”

Ermal pouted at him, but said no more about it. They walked in comfortable silence down the street until they’d reached the main road. “This is one of the most annoying things” Ermal muttered suddenly.  
“What is?”  
“Walking. It’s so convenient being able to fly.”  
“Or using your teleporting thing” Fabrizio suggested.  
“What? Oh, that wouldn’t work. That’s a short distance thing.”  
“How far can you go?”  
“I don’t know, maybe about a hundred metres.” He pointed down the road as an indication of the distance.

“You could teleport us in a hundred metre chunks if you wanted” Fabrizio suggested, half-joking. It wasn’t a wholly selfless offer. His legs were already aching and the idea of being able to move without having to walk appealed tremendously to him.

“I would, but sadly it only works on me. I would end up a hundred metres down the road and you would still be here.”

“Well, it was worth a try” Fabrizio sighed.

“I could fly us there” Ermal volunteered.

Fabrizio looked at him, testing how sincere he was, and chuckled. “I don’t think so. I think showing your wings in the middle of a city would cause more trouble than a sandwich is worth.”

Ermal’s shoulders slumped. “It was worth a try” he muttered.

They were second in line to order their sandwiches. Fabrizio moaned quietly at the sight, and felt Ermal’s hand move to his back and gently rub a circle at the base of his spine. “What do they serve?” the angel asked.  
Fabrizio looked up at the menu board. “Tuna, smoked salmon and cream cheese, chicken and lettuce, beef…”  
“What do you recommend?”  
“I don’t know, I usually have cheese or chicken.”  
“I’ll have whatever you don’t have.”

They were called forward and the man behind the counter looked to Ermal for his order first. “Can I have a cheese and ham sandwich?” he requested.  
“Would you like it toasted?”  
His eyes lit up. “Toasted? Yes please!”

The bread was duly put on the grill, where it was turned and poked for a good five minutes before it was declared ready to be served. It was wrapped in brown paper and handed to Ermal, and then Fabrizio was asked for his order.

“Chicken, please.”

“Toasted?”

Fabrizio raised his head to shake it. He was now leaning against the counter with his head down, trying to bear the pain, and the thought of waiting for two more slices to go through the grill was too much.

They sat down on a bench in the square outside- Fabrizio didn’t feel ready to walk all the way home right now- and unwrapped their sandwiches. Ermal took a huge bite from his and then smiled, his cheeks blowing out like a squirrel’s. “This is delicious” he declared.

“I’m glad you like it.” Fabrizio took a smaller bite from his and immediately regretted that he hadn’t chosen to have it toasted.

“By the way, you got some calls last night” Ermal said. Fabrizio frowned at him and dug into his pocket. The screen of his phone was blank, no missed calls and no messages.

“Why do your clients call you so late at night? I thought you were a nine to five worker.”

“I’m a whatever time I’m needed worker. Where are the calls?”

“I listened to them for you.”

“You went through my phone?” Fabrizio asked incredulously. Ermal shrugged, pointing to his mouth to indicate there was sandwich in it right now.

“It was ringing and you were asleep,” he mumbled, and then swallowed. “Gianni called to say he needs to reschedule his appointment because he’s going to see a DJ. Leonardo also wants to reschedule because he’s going to a football match. Elisa wants you to look after her kids next Friday while she’s on a date. I’m dubious of that one. You’re a support worker, not a babysitter. Susanna has a job interview and wants you to go shopping with her to choose some new clothes. Maria’s message was the same. And finally, Rafael wants you to come over to help him write a CV and fill in some application forms.”

Despite the invasion of privacy, Fabrizio couldn’t fault his delivery of the messages. “Alright, thanks.”

“Do these people know that you’ve just been in hospital?”

“My work is never done. Claudio and Roberto have done a lot, I’m sure, but clients get quite attached to their assigned support worker.”

“Why would you call someone at midnight though?” Ermal insisted.

“People feel scared and lonely at night. They often don’t have anyone else so they turn to the person they know will listen. Are you saying that the situation in Heaven isn’t similar?” he inquired, smirking.

Ermal raised an eyebrow, or rather he raised the two silver studs that stood in for it. “It’s called Paradise, and I wouldn’t know. The call centre deals with prayers.”

“Call centre?” Fabrizio squinted at him, unsure if he was being serious. Ermal looked back with wide-eyed sincerity. “How else would you deal with 7 billion people trying to speak at once?” he queried. He formed a phone with his fingers and held it to his ear. “Hello, you’re through to Paradise, my name is Michael and you are currently number 4 billion and eleven in the queue. Please hold, your prayer is important to us.”

Fabrizio snorted with laughter at his saccharine tone of voice. “Tell me they use hymns for the music while you’re holding.”  
“Of course. In fact, they sing down the phone.”  
“Good. That’s the level of customer service I expect.”

They grinned at each other, and then Fabrizio turned back to the phone, opening his reminders. “Did Susanna and Maria say when their interviews are?”

“No, but…”

“I should do that first. I can go out with one today and the other tomorrow. I can go over to Rafael on Monday and spend the whole afternoon with him. He’ll probably need it. Oh, but how can I do that if I don’t drive? I might need your help.”

He turned and found that every trace of amusement had vanished from Ermal’s face. “You won’t have it” the angel said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re supposed to be resting, not looking after other people’s children and buying their clothes.”

“They’re vulnerable people. It’s my job to look after them. You couldn’t neglect your job because you’re tired, right?”

That earned him a derisive scoff. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because you have a choice,” he snapped. “Fabrizio, don’t you think these people are taking advantage of you a little? Why do Susanna and Maria need you to go shopping with them? They’re going for an interview. A black dress and shoes is all they need. And why can’t Elisa…” He broke off suddenly and the light of epiphany came over his face. “Oh, I just got it!”

“What?”

“They’re women! All the stupid requests come from women! They don’t need you to do this stuff, they just want you around to look at you. It makes sense!” Ermal yelled, far too loudly for a public street. Fabrizio looked around quickly in case anyone had been close enough to hear, feeling his face burning.

“No, it doesn’t,” he retorted. “Elisa got out of an abusive relationship two years ago and she’s hardly been out of the house since. Susanna has an anxiety disorder and she needs someone to go to the cash desk for her. To be honest, I’m not sure about Maria,” he conceded. “I think she just wants a second opinion. She’s very fashion-conscious.”

“And she’s asking you to advise her on fashion?” Ermal queried, and threw his head back. “Ha! She has the hots for you.”

“She doesn’t!”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“She has the hots for you,” Ermal asserted confidently. “Don’t worry, you’re going to give this stuff to Claudio or Roberto, and tell them to film her face when they turn up. You’ll see I’m right.”

Fabrizio looked at him, feeling anger sparking, and shook his head forcefully. “There’s no need to be mean,” he said. “Whatever your problem is, you don’t have to be nasty about people. Are you finished your sandwich? Let’s go home then. We’ll get the papers on the way past.” He grabbed his stick and pulled himself to his feet.

“Are you annoyed at me? Hey, are you annoyed at me? I was joking, Fabrizio! Oh, for God’s sake!”

Fabrizio went into the newsagent, browsed the selections for a moment, and then picked up a newspaper and two magazines. That should keep them occupied for the afternoon. Ermal was still on the bench when he came out, and stood up only as Fabrizio passed him. They walked home in silence, about six inches apart from each other. Fabrizio looked at the angel only once, to find that he was still eating his sandwich on the move. When they got into the flat, he lowered himself onto the armchair and opened his paper, blocking out the view of Ermal on the sofa.

“So what are we doing today?” the other man asked, after several minutes of silence had elapsed.

“I have no plans.”

“Is there anything you want to do?”

“No.”

More silence reigned. Fabrizio turned the page and finally, unable to keep ignoring Ermal any longer, looked up. The angel was hanging upside down on the sofa, hands folded neatly on his stomach.

“Is there anything you want to do?” Fabrizio inquired politely.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to sit in this room all day. Don’t you get bored?”

“No. I run around so much for work that it’s a relief to spend the weekend relaxing. You can go out if you want” he added. Ermal grimaced at him. “I’m supposed to stay with you though” he said.

“Does being a guardian angel mean you have to shadow me at all times?”

Ermal remained thoughtfully silent. “Not necessarily, but the paperwork will be a nightmare if you get hurt while I’m gone” he declared at last.

“I promise I won’t move from this chair.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Ermal kicked his legs up and executed an admittedly impressive backflip to return to a standing position. “I’ll wash the dishes before I go” he volunteered, already walking away. Fabrizio felt his annoyance dissipate then. It was nice of Ermal not to leave that huge mess to be dealt with by someone else. He might be able to live with his sharp tongue, he thought cautiously, if he turned out to be a considerate kind of flatmate.

He read a few more articles in the paper, until the back of his mind registered that the water was no longer running in the kitchen. He lifted his head and listened. There was utter silence from the next room. “Did you put them away?” he called. There was no response. “Ermal?”

Fabrizio sighed and put the paper aside. He couldn’t stand dishes left in the sink. There was every chance that Ermal had done the job properly, but he needed to make sure. He stood and immediately regretted it, feeling his legs groan in protest, and he had to grip onto the arm of the chair to stay on his feet. Slowly, throwing himself from chair to sofa to wall, he made his way to the kitchen. The dishes were still stacked on the draining board, washed and now waiting to be dried and put away.

Fabrizio rolled his eyes and lifted a plate. He hadn’t appreciated how weak his arms were until then. It slipped from his fingers and smashed against the floor. Groaning, he sank to his knees and tried to lift the pieces. A sudden sharp pain informed him of the jagged edge he’d missed and he pulled his hand back, too late. A seam had opened in the skin across his palm, filling with red, and he felt nauseous with horror at the sight of it. The nearest available item with which to staunch the blood was a tea towel and he grabbed for it.

“You weren’t going to leave the chair, huh?”

“Jesus!” Fabrizio screamed, recoiling backwards and knocking his elbow painfully against the cupboard under the sink.

“You may call me Ermal” the angel retorted dryly, advancing towards him.

“We…We need to come up with a rule about you using the front door,” Fabrizio gasped. “You can’t just appear like that. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

Ermal sighed and shook his head as if Fabrizio was a moron. “Where’s your First Aid kit?”

“That box there.”

Ermal knelt down and opened the box, taking out a little brown bottle and pulling Fabrizio’s palm towards him to check the size of the cut, before selecting a bandage. “I guess you don’t have healing powers then” Fabrizio said.

“Oh, I totally forgot I had those. Why am I wasting time with a First Aid kit?”

“Alright, smartass,” Fabrizio muttered. “How did you know I was injured anyway?”

Ermal glared at him and then lifted his palm to show the thin red line running across it.

“Oh. I didn’t know that happened.”

“Can you please be more careful from now on? I didn’t even make it to the museum.”

Fabrizio started to smile, and then the cotton pad of antiseptic touched his palm and he hissed, looking away. It lasted only a few seconds before the pleasantly dry sensation of a bandage replaced it. He looked back and watched Ermal expertly wrap it around his hand and secure it.

“Out of all the things you could do in Rome, you decided to go to a museum first?” he queried. Ermal frowned at him. “Rome has a lot of history. It’s interesting.”  
Fabrizio nodded. “I used to go museums all the time,” he admitted. “My son loves them. It doesn’t matter if it’s art, history or science. He just loves learning.”

Ermal moved away and sat with his back against the fridge. “There are no signs of children around here.”

“They don’t live with me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” the angel retorted. “You seemed close in the photos.”

Fabrizio tried to smile, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “We used to be,” he agreed. “I used to have them every second weekend. We’d go to museums, the beach, eat a pizza and watch a movie. It was great. There were never enough hours in the day. And I used to pick them up from school two days a week and cook their dinner.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t do any of that.”

“What happened?”

Out of nowhere, he was struck by the memory of that day. He remembered going over to the house with his arms filled with games and books, and seeing the Sold sign outside. He tried to act as if it was an exciting adventure for the kids’ sakes, and it worked well enough on Anita, but Libero sat there with his arms folded and kept repeating that he didn’t want to go. He refused to look at Fabrizio. Giada gave him a hug when she locked the house up and said they’d organise visits when they were settled in. The last thing he saw was his kids in the backseat, being driven away from him. Everything else was a bit of a blur. Apparently he’d walked around in a daze for days.

“Their mother, my ex, met someone else” he answered.

“Oh. He doesn’t want you around?”

“That’s not the problem. They live in Milan. He comes from there and Giada moved with the kids to be with him.”

“Why didn’t you go?” Ermal asked innocently, and Fabrizio closed his eyes. That was always the million euro question. That was what everyone asked, so well-meaning, as if no-one had asked before. His son, his friends, his sister. Some of them understood the reason, others not so much.

“I didn’t want to leave my job.”

“It means that much to you?”

Fabrizio silently awarded him a four out of ten on the tactfulness scale. “Of course it doesn’t,” he sighed. “I was just scared. I don’t know how I would get another job. I don’t have any qualifications and I have a criminal record. How do I go to an interview and say that? I only have my current job because Alessandro recommended me for it.”

“But you miss them?”

“Of course I fucking miss them.” How was that not obvious? “I hardly see them anymore and Libero doesn’t understand why I won’t move.”

Ermal bit his lip sadly. “It’s a difficult situation” he said. His tactfulness marking was moved up to six for that.

“Yeah,” Fabrizio said shortly. He placed his hand on the floor and turned onto his knees. “I’m going to lie down, okay?”

“Sure. Need help getting up?” Ermal was already starting to move, but Fabrizio shooed him away. “I’m fine” he insisted.

**

He expected Ermal to go back to being a tourist, his duty done, but when he woke up three hours later, he found the angel sitting on the sofa and colouring his fingernails with a black marker. He looked up when Fabrizio walked into the room.

“Who decorated this house?” he queried.

“Um…the previous tenants, maybe. Why?”

“It’s so ugly. I feel like I’m waiting to be digested. Haven’t you ever thought about redecorating the place?”

“No,” Fabrizio sighed, lowering himself into the armchair. “I don’t have time or money, and it doesn’t bother anyone. I thought you were going out” he added, before Ermal could reply.

“I’ll go tomorrow. It’s too late now” the angel said, returning to his makeshift manicure. That didn’t wholly explain why he hadn’t gone this afternoon, but Fabrizio couldn’t be bothered to push the issue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio gains a better understanding of Ermal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers! Thank you so much as always for your support. I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out for a couple of reasons. I planned this before I realised the problems of using a real location and I couldn't change it, and my life is not going so well at the moment so I may not be writing at my best. Disclaimer: I have never been to Villa Borghese or Galleria Borghese so I do not know their layouts. If you do, please forgive my imaginings. Also warning: this chapter contains some discussion about a potentially upsetting event. Nothing graphic is depicted, but I want to make you aware. This may be the most angsty thing I've written so far and I'm really sorry if it's hard reading.

The following morning, Fabrizio awoke to find two perfectly made sandwiches sitting in the kitchen, one cheese and one chicken. Both were toasted.

“Eat up,” Ermal said. “Do you want to stay with your chicken or try cheese today?”

Fabrizio picked up the chicken, feeling how crisp the bread was. “How did you know that I preferred toasted sandwiches?” he asked, wondering if the angel was a mind reader as well as everything else.

“You grimaced when you bit it yesterday,” Ermal explained. “I figured it wasn’t the filling because you said you’d had chicken before, so…Anyway, what time do we need to get the bus?”

“They go at five past and twenty to each hour. Why?”

“I’m going back to the art gallery today and we can take a walk around the park while we’re there. How long does it take to get to Villa Borghese from here?”

Fabrizio turned to look at him, sensing trouble. “You don’t have to get a bus.”

“No, but you do, and you’re coming with me.” Ermal smiled cheerfully at him, as if daring him to argue.  
“Says who?” Fabrizio demanded.  
“Says me.”  
“I still need a walking stick to get around.”

“I know,” Ermal said, grimacing. “I’m not mean. A gentle walk through the park won’t kill you, and I’ll put you on the benches in the gallery while I’m looking at the paintings.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming” Fabrizio remarked sarcastically. Ermal replied with a sunny grin. “Thank you. Now eat your breakfast. I’ll get your outfit ready. I’m so helpful.” He walked out of the kitchen, swinging his arms. If he was asked, Fabrizio would wholeheartedly deny that he smiled.

They rode the bus in silence. Fabrizio sighed at the realisation that he looked just like the sign next to his seat, a rendering of an elderly person with a walking stick. Ermal was standing next to him and, as soon as the bus stopped, pushed his way to the front and started marching. They were halfway down the street before he looked back and saw Fabrizio limping twenty feet behind.

“Need a hand?” he offered, extending his palm. Fabrizio grimaced at him. Was he seriously suggesting that they hold hands on a public street in Rome? He shook his head and moved past as quickly as possible. Ermal fell into step alongside him, at a pace so casual and deliberately slow that it was insulting. Fabrizio attempted to go faster, and the angel sped up with him, until he started to go too fast and Fabrizio fell behind, at which point Ermal slowed almost to a standstill. In this miserable stop-start fashion, they made their way to the entrance of Villa Borghese.

“Can we please sit down?” Fabrizio asked almost as soon as they were among the greenery. Ermal looked at him incredulously. “You cannot possibly be tired already.”

“I’m not,” Fabrizio retorted. “I’m worried about making it home if we go too far.”

Ermal scoffed. “I can fly you home if you need.”

Fabrizio tried to turn too fast and needed to lean heavily on his stick. “We are in Rome!” he retorted, too loudly. “Do you really think people won’t notice?”

“No,” Ermal replied immediately. “People never notice things. They’d think it was a bird or a plane or something.”

“A plane…” Fabrizio suddenly felt a tipping sensation in his head, his sight becoming unfocused for a moment as he attempted to stay on his feet, and quickly made his way to the nearest bench. He sat down heavily and lowered his head, taking a few deep breaths. When he looked up, Ermal was sitting beside him.

“Okay. How far does the walk extend?” he asked.

“Um…” Fabrizio squinted up the path, trying to walk it in his mind. “It goes straight, then around the corner and there’s another path…A very long path and…Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s another lane that takes you to the top of the park then.”

“You mean that’s not it? This place is bigger than I thought it was going to be” Ermal remarked. He looked around and laughed at something behind them. Fabrizio turned and saw a group of children messing around in the play area. Two of them were clinging onto the roundabout while four others ran around it, spinning it faster and faster, trying to make their friends fall off.

“That looks like fun, doesn’t it?” Ermal said. “Do you want to be the one sitting or pushing?”  
“I think we’re too old for that game.”  
“You’re only as old as you feel.”  
“I feel eighty-two.”

The angel sighed deeply then, looked at Fabrizio as if he was a disappointment, and patted his knee hard. “You rest,” he muttered. “Let me know when you’re ready to keep walking.”

He stood up and walked towards a slope that led down to a vast lawn, at the end of which was the rose gardens. Fabrizio watched as he approached a large tree and, with one jump, latched onto the lowest branch and lifted his legs up to wrap around it. He let go and dangled there like a bat. Fabrizio had to admit, it was an amusing sight.

A high-pitched scream made him flinch and gasp out loud. He looked around frantically. Where was the danger? What was happening? He couldn’t see any indication of unrest. A family having a picnic, a couple walking their dog, two teenagers playing Frisbee, no sign of anyone being hurt or anyone with the intention to hurt. He heard the scream again, but now it was mixed in with laughter, and he looked back to see that one of the kids had fallen off the roundabout. She was picking herself up, jokingly complaining about her loss and smiling brightly. Fabrizio’s shoulders slumped and he put a hand on his chest, waiting for his heart rate to slow. That had been frightening in more than one way. This had happened twice now and what if it happened again? He hated the thought of becoming a nervous wreck.

When he looked up, Ermal was gone. He looked around and spotted him a second later, down on the lawn, simply walking around with no clear direction. At least Fabrizio thought he had no clear direction. As he watched, Ermal approached the little boy from the picnicking family and, while his parents’ heads were turned, reached out and rubbed the child’s head before turning away swiftly. The boy looked around, frowning as he saw no-one nearby who could have been responsible, and then carried on eating.

Ermal looked around and his eyes fixed on something. Fabrizio glanced in the same direction and saw two parents pushing a buggy down the path towards them. He struggled to get up, hunched over the bench as he urged his spine to let him stand up straight, gripping the stick and taking a moment to remind himself of his instructions. Right foot down, left foot move, he recited. The problem was not walking- that invariably happened within a few steps- but the fear of the pain when he put pressure on his leg. He stumbled one step, then two, then his spine straightened and he walked swiftly to intercept Ermal as he came up the slope.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” the angel asked, giving no indication that he’d done anything wrong. He actually had the temerity to step sideways as if he was planning to go around Fabrizio.

“What are you doing?” Fabrizio demanded, grabbing his arm to hold him still.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t touch other people’s kids. You’ll get beaten up.”

Ermal frowned at him, looking offended. “I was blessing them.”

“Well, you can’t do that in a public park. Whatever you are, you look like a grown man and you can’t approach strangers’ kids.”

Ermal folded his arms, looking like a child who’d just been scolded and was choosing to rebel on principle. “I was just trying to help,” he said. “And I needed to do something while you were resting. If you’re ready to walk again, let’s go to the gallery.”

He turned and marched down the path, not stopping or looking back for Fabrizio this time. Nevertheless he was waiting at the entrance to the gallery. As promised, he walked around the rooms while Fabrizio sat on a bench, watching him closely. Fortunately he didn’t see Ermal even look at a child. All of his attention was focused on the artwork. After each circuit, he would sit down and tell Fabrizio about the sculptures and paintings before moving on.

They had been here for ninety minutes and only seen three rooms. Fabrizio looked at his watch and knew they wouldn’t have time to go through the whole gallery. Besides that, he felt exhausted and desperately hungry. As they entered the fourth room, a temporary exhibition for upcoming artists, he was waiting for an opportunity to ask Ermal if they could go and buy a sandwich on the way home.

“I like the Titian paintings” the angel remarked.

“I suppose you would,” Fabrizio said. “They’re all very religious.”

“That’s not the reason,” Ermal snapped. “They have bright colours and they’re gentle. Bernini has nice sculptures if you don’t read the cards. I feel so guilty about laughing at the one with the woman sticking her hand in the man’s face. And Caravaggio is so dark and gruesome. I don’t like him. He paints too much death.”

Fabrizio smiled at him and moved over to one of the benches. “Look at this one” he suggested, pointing to the painting right in front of him. It depicted two cherubs with dark red wings looking either thoughtful or bored, depending on the viewer’s interpretation, and the card said that the painting was an adaptation of a work by Raphael.

Ermal sat down beside him. "Oh yes, I've seen this one before."

“Is it accurate?” Fabrizio asked.

“It could be, although I’m not sure how the artist met such young angels. Maybe they escaped back to Earth looking for their parents. They’re so young…What must have happened to them that they died together? Their poor family…”

Fabrizio looked at him, surprised. “Why do you think they died?”

“That’s how angels are born,” Ermal replied matter-of-factly. “Only an innocent can become one, so they’re made up of dead children who grow up with wings on their backs.”

Fabrizio paused, processing that information, and looked at Ermal again. Did that mean…? He’d never thought about it, he’d just assumed that angels were an entirely different species that were begotten fully formed. “Is that what happened to you?” he queried, wanting to get this right.

Ermal smiled. It was a wide, toothy, unpleasant smile. “Not exactly,” he said. “In fact, you could argue I’m here because I’m not innocent.”

“What happened?”

Ermal hadn’t looked away from the painting throughout the conversation, but now he slowly turned his head towards Fabrizio. “Do you really want to know?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“When I was thirteen, my father sent me out to burn old furniture on a bonfire. The fumes overwhelmed me and I collapsed onto it.”

He spoke so quickly and plainly that Fabrizio didn’t initially understand what he’d actually said. It struck him like a punch to the face. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry” he blurted out, ridiculously, but his brain had short-circuited from sheer horror and there didn’t seem to be any adequate words.

“It didn’t hurt,” Ermal said. “That was a mercy, but…My mother was the one who found me. I wish that wasn’t so.”

His bland tone of voice broke then. There were tears bubbling very close to the surface and Fabrizio regretted ever asking, regretted that he could never forget this information. For just a second, he thought of his kids. He put himself in the shoes of that poor woman, wondering why her son had been at the bonfire for so long, walking outside, and then he had to physically shake the thought out of his head before it made him sick. He would lose his mind, he knew that. They would have to put him in a straitjacket for the rest of his life. There could be no coming back from a sight like that.

“Did you try to go back to them?” he asked, hearing his voice come out like a whisper.

“I did,” Ermal said, and when he smiled, it was melancholy tinged with pride. “I couldn’t let them see me, I knew it would terrify them, but I did appear to my father. He had a heart attack on the kitchen floor and I watched.”

Once more, Fabrizio was taken aback by his deadpan delivery of such terrible information, and the shock must have shown on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ermal snapped. “He was a bastard. My mother and siblings were much happier after he was buried. I watched them when I could. I saw their weddings, the births of their children, their happy lives, and then I saw them go up to Paradise. I’m happy they’re safe.”

“But you can’t see them again?”

“No, at least not until I atone for killing my father. Apparently intent is what makes a murderer,” he said with undisguised bitterness. “He didn’t intend for me to die on that fire, he just didn’t care, whereas I wanted him to die and I made sure he did. I guess I’ll be stuck on this plane for the rest of eternity because I will never regret what I did.”

He looked at Fabrizio so stubbornly that he suddenly wanted to pull the angel into a hug. No wonder he was so unhappy. Perhaps it was a different time, more superstitious, and he was right to spare his family a shock that apparently had the power to cause cardiac arrests, but Fabrizio thought of his own children again. God forbid anything ever happened to them, but if they had the power to come back and assure him that they were well and happy in a place he couldn’t see, it might ease the suffering even slightly.

“I can see you judging me, Fabrizio” Ermal said, interrupting his thoughts. Fabrizio quickly shook his head. It would do no good to share what he was thinking. Ermal must have had this conversation with many people before, and Fabrizio couldn’t be the first to have considered that novel suggestion. It was too late to be anything but another source of regret to someone who must have too much of that already.

“I’m just thinking that I have a little more understanding of why you act this way. You do this job because you have no choice, but you resent it the whole time. Is that right?”

Ermal said nothing for a moment, and the defiant look on his face slowly softened. He rubbed the back of his neck and moved his head as if it was stiff. “I do my best, but there’s no light at the end of this tunnel. So why would I do more than the bare minimum if I have nothing to hope for?” he said, and Fabrizio felt that for the first time, the angel was being completely honest with him. This felt like progress.

“What’s the bare minimum?” he probed.

“Keeping you alive.” Ermal started to get up, as if trying to escape the conversation, but Fabrizio grabbed his hand before he got out of reach and pinned it to the bench.

“Ermal…I know that for an immortal creature, a human lifespan is nothing, but I still have decades of life ahead of me and that’s a long time to be around someone who hates me.”

Ermal turned towards him and the look on his face was the same as the one Fabrizio had seen when he’d first appeared in the hospital. It was hard, frustrated, and almost angry. So this was not progress after all.

“We’ve been over this, Fabrizio,” he said icily. “I don’t hate you. I wish you would go outside more, but that’s not enough to say that I hate you. I’m just doing a job, and remember, you have an eternity in Paradise to look forward to. All I have in my future is an endless line of people who show me pictures of angels to ask if they’re accurate.”

He pulled his hand away sharply and looked down on Fabrizio as if he could crush him. “Now let’s move on before the guards think we’re plotting to steal one of the paintings.”

He walked away and by the time Fabrizio had struggled to his feet, the angel had moved on to the next room. Fabrizio found him thoughtfully gazing at a series of charcoal sketches that, although he didn’t claim to have a great understanding of art, looked a bit ugly. Ermal turned towards him and smiled brightly, as if the previous conversation had never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Fabrizio's health improves and Ermal continues to try being a good angel :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! I don't know about you, but I've missed this story. I didn't intend to leave it hanging on an angsty note, but hopefully this new offering will be a lighter read. Thank you to my commenters who are the greatest source of support and inspiration I could ask for, and especially to the one who sent me international fan mail xD Much love to you. Please enjoy the chapter.

Fabrizio was off work for another week, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t busy. For a start, he used the spare time to make all the calls he needed to. He called Claudio to tell him that he wasn’t ready to return yet, but he’d try to come back as soon as possible. His friend assured him that he should take all the time he needed to recover, kind words which they both knew had no meaning. He added that nobody except himself and Roberto knew that Fabrizio hadn’t returned on Monday and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible, which nearly brought tears of gratitude to Fabrizio’s eyes.

“If you really need me to come back, call me and I’ll be there the next morning” he said.

“I will, but seriously don’t rush yourself. You need to get better. Do you want me to do anything for you?”

“It’s okay, Claudio. I’m getting a lot of support from the hospital.”

“Alright, but the offer stands. You call me if you need anything and I’ll be there.”

He was a great friend, Fabrizio thought after the conversation ended. He always had been from Fabrizio’s first week at the centre when Claudio brought his lunch over and asked if they could eat together, later explaining that he’d seen Fabrizio eating alone for days and thought it would be nice to find out if he wanted company. When Giada and the kids left for Milan, mere weeks before Christmas which was barbarically cruel timing in Fabrizio’s eyes, Claudio had shown up at his door on the 24th and invited him out for a Christmas dinner. It was only a meal at a pizzeria, not the usual turkey and trimmings, but it got him out of the house and Claudio had stayed with him until the 27th so that he didn’t spend the worst days of the season alone. He’d never figured out how to adequately express his thanks for that.

He also called Giada to let her know he was home, but got a pleasant surprise when the phone was picked up by Anita.

“Hello!”

He grinned at his daughter’s loud, cheerful voice. “Hi piccola, how are you?”

“Papa! Hi Papa! I’m good! Mamma said you were in the hospital. Did you get hurt?”

“Just a few scratches, nothing to worry about.”

“And you’re fixed?” she asked. He laughed quietly. There was truly no better mood enhancer than Anita’s simple view of the world. “Yes, I’m fixed.”

“I miss you” she said, and he wished he could reach all the way across the country to wrap her in a big hug.

“I miss you too. Do you know what you’re doing for your birthday?”

“Yes, we’re going to Dreamland because Chiara’s been there before and it’s really amazing. Papa, can I have Alice from Tubby Teddies for my birthday? She’s the green one.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Is Chiara coming to your party?” he asked.

“Yes, she’s here now. We’re having a sleepover.”

He would never, in a million years, understand the way this friendship worked. “I thought you’d fallen out with each other.”

“We had, but now we’re not” she replied simply. He supposed he couldn’t argue with that logic. “Will you tell Mamma that I called to let her know I’m home?”

“Okay!” She ran off, leaving the phone off the hook. Giada picked it up, he passed on the message, and she wished him a speedy recovery.

The other reason that he was busy was because of work. Officially he was on leave, but clients’ issues didn’t magically vanish simply because it was inconvenient for him. He discussed it with Ermal and they were able to agree on a compromise, which was essentially made of Ermal giving him orders and then backing down on anything Fabrizio argued back about, which admittedly wasn’t much. He gave the shopping expeditions and the rescheduled appointments over to his colleagues, but kept hold of Elisa and Rafael because his involvement was essential in those cases.

On Monday, as promised, he went over to Rafael’s place and quickly discovered that he had not actually been called to help with a CV. Rafael admitted that the long, hopeless quest for employment had got on top of him. He’d done something stupid, handing his money over to an online course that had frightened him with screaming declarations of ‘Only One Place Left’, ‘Pay Now to Get a Discounted Price’. He didn’t even want to work in that particular industry. He was just getting so desperate, and burst into tears as he explained.

“What if I’m completely unemployable?” he asked. “What if I can never get a job?”

“You will get a job. Something will turn up if we give it enough time, but you need to be calmer. Don’t rush into things.”

“I feel like a failure!” the man cried, and Fabrizio couldn’t stop himself from giving him a hug. How well he knew that feeling. He spent three hours making phone calls and sending emails, and thank God that the company was actually legitimate, for all their cheap scare tactics. Rafael was still within the time frame for a refund and the whole thing was sorted with no long-term repercussions, except for a better understanding of the consequences of rushing a major financial decision. Fabrizio looked through his CV and suggested some edits, went through the jobs listings to find out what Rafael was interested in, and finally referred him to the employment agency for some additional support. He was in much greater spirits when Fabrizio departed, feeling drained despite the fact that he’d only seen one client today.

Ermal was waiting outside and, at his behest, they ended up eating gelato on the Spanish Steps. In some ways, the angel’s need to be constantly active reminded Fabrizio of his children and he couldn’t help finding it slightly endearing. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t exhausting to be stuck with someone who was so easily bored. He didn’t know how he was going to handle this in the long-term. When they got home, he realised that he’d missed a phone call from Simone, a former client who had been using him as an out-of-hours therapist for the past nine months. Fabrizio had never missed a call from him in all that time, and he was already imagining what he would say to the coroner as he redialled the number. It turned out that Simone had accidentally sat on his phone and butt-dialled the last number he’d called. Fabrizio had to go and lie down to recover from the day.

He didn’t work again for the rest of the week. He did, however, attend his first outpatient appointment with the physiotherapist. Ermal came in to assist for the first few rounds, and then retired to let Fabrizio try it on his own. It was harder without some support from a hand or a stick, but he managed to get around without falling. The doctor let him sit down after half an hour, tapped his knees with a little hammer and noted his responses.

“How is the stick working out?” she asked.

“It's good. It really helps,” he said. “When do you think I can stop using it?”

She hummed thoughtfully, consulting her notes. “It’s hard to say, although I must admit that I've been very pleased with your progress. I would urge you to keep attending physiotherapy and I can prescribe pills to ease the pain, but looking at your notes, I think you might be a good candidate for steroid injections as well.”

“What would that involve?”

“It's quite simple,” she said. “The medicine would increase the strength in your legs and take pressure off the joints. I can't promise it will be a miracle cure, but it will improve your mobility.”

He thought about it. There was no reason to say no, every option was worth trying, but something about the idea of having steroids in his body put him off. It also sounded like quite an experimental treatment and whether that made him a coward, he didn’t wholly trust experimental treatments. He didn’t even like being seen by student dentists, regardless of the discount or supervision, and this was a much more important problem to solve correctly.

“And it will definitely work? It won't make things worse?” he queried nervously.

“In the short-term, you will feel worse. An injection into the joints will leave you unable to walk at all at first, and you will have to rest your legs as much as possible for a few days afterwards, but there will be long-term benefits.”

That sounded far too wishy-washy, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I'll try it” he said quickly, seizing onto one second of courage before he could talk himself out of it. The doctor nodded and wrote something down.

“Do you have someone who will be able to help you for the few days afterwards?” she asked.

“Yes” he said, and looked over to see his help swinging on the parallel bars like a gymnast.

**

So it was that on Friday, after pulling out of his scheduled babysitting appointment with regrets, he found himself lying on a table with his pants pulled down and staring at the far wall. All of a sudden, this didn't seem like such a good idea. He'd had injections before, but these nurses were taking their sweet time about getting prepared and with every second that passed, the fear increased. What would an injection into bone be like? Painful, of course, but how bad? As bad as getting a tattoo or...?

“We're almost ready, Mr Mobrici. Just keep looking at the wall.”

He was rapidly running out of time to call a halt to this. He knew that he didn't have to go through with it, but he thought of all the times that he’d braved pain for the greater good- when he’d had braces, when his sister had practiced her art on him, when he’d had a tetanus injection in the sole of his foot after idiotically playing on a building site and stepping on a nail. He could do it again. This would help him. However much it hurt, it would be worth it.

It was like having his bone broken. They forced the needle into his hip and held it there for ten seconds. He coped atrociously. He cried, he writhed, he completely lost all sense of where he was and how much time had passed. If one of his children had behaved as he did, he would have been ashamed, but the agony was so overwhelming that he didn't realise the needle was gone until a nurse put her hand on his arm.

They sat him up and helped him into a wheelchair. His legs felt fine, or at least no different than before. His head, however, was light and woozy from crying. He was brought to the waiting room. Ermal was sitting out there, or rather lying across three chairs with his teeth gritted.

“Are you okay?” Fabrizio asked, remembering that particular part of the arrangement too late.

“I’m fine, how are you?” Ermal retorted, grimacing and rubbing his hip.

“I’ll be fine. It really hurt though.”

“Did it? I had no idea. Tell me more.”

Ermal stood up, took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Fabrizio out of the surgery. They’d barely gone halfway down the street when the first twinges of pain wrapped around his thigh. Alarmed, Fabrizio tried to stand and was forced to sit back down.

“They're seizing up. I need to walk” he insisted.

“They told you this would happen.”

By the end of the road, his legs had entirely seized up. The muscles felt too heavy to move and he couldn't even try. His legs felt like they were being crushed in a vice, as if metal plates were tightening more and more around them, breaking the bones and twisting the muscles. He was paralysed again, and now in chronic pain as well. The realisation made him start crying anew. He should never have agreed to the stupid treatment. He'd been doing just fine and now all the progress was gone.

“Fabrizio, calm down. It’s okay. They told you this was a short-term thing. You’re going to be fine. We just have to get back to the flat.”

Every jolt of the wheelchair went straight to his bruised hip and made him whimper. “If you keep whining, I’m just going to pick you up and fly” Ermal muttered.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

The chair was pulled to a halt and two arms slipped under his, crossing over his chest. “No!” he called.

“What? You asked me to!” Ermal let go of him and started pushing again. “I should just do it anyway,” he added quietly. “Like I have time for this.” After a moment, he started to speak in a sing-song voice. “Fabri had a donkey everyone admired, permanently lazy and temporarily tired, a leg in every corner balancing his head, and a tail to let you know which end he wanted to be fed.”

Fabrizio giggled and looked back. “Did you make that up?”

“I was working it out as we were walking.”

At last, he saw his building and the torture was nearly over, or so he presumed. Ermal pushed him right up to the steps and then stopped. Both of them looked at the small, but insurmountable problem. Ermal opened the door first and then attempted to push the wheelchair up, but it tipped backwards and Fabrizio gripped onto the armrests for dear life, making unintelligible panicked noises.

“Can you walk at all?” Ermal asked. Fabrizio attempted to move his legs as if anything would have changed, and shook his head.

“Can you crawl?”

Obligingly he slipped out of the chair and then draped himself over the steps, managing to drag himself commando-style up one step, and then collapsing with the edge digging into his ribs. “I can’t do it. My legs won’t move at all.”

“Oh, nuts, what am I going to do?”

Ermal ran to the top of the steps and then looked down at Fabrizio. For a second, it seemed that he would seriously take the other man’s arms and drag him over concrete. He looked around the courtyard. “I’d lift you, but my wings aren’t going to fit through the door.”

“Take your time” Fabrizio said, trying to move positions to relieve the pressure on his chest.

Ermal sighed, looking in all directions as if inspiration might be found anywhere, and then glanced back into the flat. He suddenly froze, squinting thoughtfully, and walked inside. He returned pulling Fabrizio's duvet after him, which he lay out on the ground. Fabrizio raised his head and frowned incredulously. Ermal pulled him onto the duvet and wrapped the sides around him, and then started to drag him inside. He felt the ground and the steps below him, but there was no pain through the thick cushioning. The surface changed to the smooth wooden floor of the flat and then Ermal was hauling him, not too gently, onto the bed. He positioned Fabrizio's head on the pillow and straightened his body. Fabrizio was left looking like an Egyptian mummy crossed with a sushi roll.

Ermal stepped back to look at him, and stifled a laugh. “I'm glad you find this so amusing” Fabrizio said acerbically.

“Can I do anything for you?” the angel asked, ignoring the remark.

“Can you unroll me?”

“I don't want to move you any more than I have to. How about some pleasant dreams?”

“If you want to.”

“What else am I going to do, sit and stare at your kidney-coloured walls?”

“How about you bring the laptop in here and I can watch a movie?”

Ermal left the room and returned with the computer in his arms, the plug draped over his arm and the wires trailing behind him. He placed it on the bed and lifted Fabrizio into an upright position, removing some layers of duvet so he could move his arms, and put the laptop into his hands. “Do you want to join me?” Fabrizio offered.

Ermal looked at the laptop dubiously. “Am I supposed to lean over your shoulder?”

“Well…” Fabrizio considered. “I suppose you would. There isn’t anywhere else to put it, unless we move to the living room, but you don’t like my kidney-coloured walls, right?”

Ermal eyed him and then sat down on the bed. Fabrizio opened the lid of the computer and glanced at Ermal as he started moving through the list of genres. “What do you like? I have cartoons, action-adventure, classics, documentaries…”

“Anything except romance” Ermal said.

“You don’t like romance?”

“I don’t like movie romance. The protagonist inevitably falls in love with the first person of the opposite sex who appears on screen, and those relationships are nearly always toxic. There’s always some element of miscommunication, stalking or jealousy. My…An old client used to love that sappy crap, and I used to ask what was so romantic about forcing someone to love you through a campaign of attrition.”

Fabrizio couldn’t help grinning at him. He was starting to find that he enjoyed how deadly serious Ermal was about such trivial things, the way he would yell at the newspaper and couldn’t abide fictional characters in books being cruel to each other, berating them as if they were real people. 

“What?” Ermal demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We’re definitely watching a romance now” Fabrizio declared. The angel’s eyes widened in horror. “No!”

“I don’t like them either. If we find a good one, maybe we’ll have our minds changed. What about this one? It’s got rave reviews.”

Within ten minutes of the movie’s start, Ermal’s commentary began. “I guarantee that it’ll be the guy in the lift…What did I tell you? And he’s her boss! The big businessman taking advantage of his secretary, how clichéd…A dream sequence? Really?”

They were now twenty minutes into the film and the two lovebirds were the only people in the office at night, flirting shamelessly from either side of a conference table. “Do you think he knows that he looks like a serial killer?” Ermal asked. He put on an exaggerated feminine voice. “Oh, my new boss is so sexy. Every time our eyes meet, I feel like he wants to push me into traffic.”

Fabrizio burst out laughing, stopping after several seconds to find Ermal grinning at him triumphantly. For the rest of the movie, Ermal took it upon himself to act as the thoughts of the male lead. At a stroke, the hero was turned from Mr Darcy to Patrick Bateman, and the burgeoning love story became a farce about a serial killer continually foiled by bad luck. Fabrizio found the angel's version of the screenplay vastly more enjoyable than the actual movie. He was repeatedly made breathless from laughter, and that seemed to spur Ermal on to make more and more jokes.

As time wore on, he started to become quieter and Fabrizio looked at him, wondering where his quick wit had gone. Ermal looked back and then leaned his head on Fabrizio’s shoulder. “I'm bored” he said. His hair tickled Fabrizio’s face and he tried unsuccessfully to move away without disturbing the laptop. “Can you move your head a bit?” he requested. “You have a very comfortable shoulder,” Ermal insisted. “I'm going to sleep on it. No arguments.”

For several minutes, he heard nothing from the angel by his side. The movie was much less fun to watch without him. The two leads were now in a hotel room, admiring the view of Paris. It was the perfect moment for a quick shove, in Ermal’s version of the story, but instead they only began another sex scene and Fabrizio sighed. He rolled his mouse over the screen to see how long was left, and his spirits nosedived upon discovering that forty-five interminable minutes still lay ahead.

“Did it hurt?” Ermal asked suddenly. Fabrizio turned, grateful for a distraction. “Did what hurt?”  
The angel pressed a finger onto Fabrizio’s arm and he looked down, lifting his elbow for a better view. “The tattoos? Maybe a little.”

“It must not have hurt much if you kept doing it” Ermal remarked. He didn’t take his finger away, but started tracing the shape of the tattoo. It tickled a bit, but Fabrizio found that he didn’t mind. He watched Ermal finish the outline of one and move onto the next.

“Do you like them?” he asked.

“Some of them,” Ermal moved his finger to Fabrizio’s hand, and his arm tingled slightly from the sudden removal of the angel’s touch. “This sun is nice. I don't know what this is trying to be.” He gripped Fabrizio’s lower arm and pulled it towards him, squinting at the image.

“It's a sparrow” Fabrizio said.

“It's a dead sparrow.”

“No!”

“Look, its head is squashed” Ermal insisted, trying to point, but Fabrizio pulled his arm away. “My sister did that.”

“Did you pay her for it?”

Fabrizio shot him a look and turned away, refusing to engage any further. “You can always get it fixed,” Ermal said after a moment. “The rest are okay. I like the words on your arm and neck. The font is pretty.”

“Did it hurt when you got your wings?” Fabrizio asked. Ermal raised a small, sad smile. “Yes, but not as much as it did for others. My father spent years cutting a place for them to grow.”

An awkward silence settled over them again. Fabrizio looked back at the screen, unsure of how to respond, but the movie was so uninteresting and he wondered if perhaps this was an opportunity to know Ermal a little better. “Do you…I mean, if you wanted to…talk about it, I’d be willing to listen.”

“What is there to talk about? It’s not something I like to dwell on.”

That told him, but there was something else. “What about the rest of your family? Were they nice?”

“They were the best” Ermal said, his voice immediately becoming warmer.

“Yeah?” Fabrizio probed cautiously, not asking any leading questions, simply encouraging him to talk. It was the same tactic he used on reticent clients.

“Yeah,” Ermal said immediately. “I had a little brother and sister, Rinald and Sabina, and my mom. She was amazing. The people in our village used to say that all of us kids had a piece of her. You know, my sister had her looks, my brother had her sense of humour and I had her brains. So you can imagine what a great person she was, with all of those traits together.”

He spoke of his mother with so much love that Fabrizio felt his heart ache a little. “I can imagine. Were you close to your siblings?” he asked.

“Very close, especially to my brother. We weren’t too far apart in age and we did everything together. Sabina was a bit younger than us, but she was the boss. Have you ever seen an old dog being chased by a puppy, just because the puppy is too young to know its place? That was Sabina.”

Ermal chuckled, no doubt at some fond memory, and Fabrizio felt a wave of envy. They sounded like such a close family, asshole father not included. The relationship Ermal described having with his siblings was exactly what Fabrizio had dreamed of having with his own brother and sister, and never quite managed to achieve.

“That sounds lovely. I was never very close to my siblings,” he admitted. “Well, to my sister, I suppose. She’s the closest to me in age and…for a long time, she was my only friend. I was really shy throughout school. I could never talk to people, so I just used to hang around when Romina had her friends over and sometimes they would include me. Sometimes it was just about being around other people so I didn’t look alone. My mother always hated the fact that I didn’t have friends. It’s never left her. Even now, she sometimes asks how often I talk to people.”

“She’s concerned about you” Ermal remarked. Fabrizio scoffed dismissively. “It’s annoying. It’s like she still sees me as a fourteen year old and doesn’t recognise the progress I’ve made.”

“What progress is that? You spend all of your time in this burrow.”

The angel’s bluntness took him aback, although at this point, perhaps it shouldn’t have. Even his parents would never be so direct. “I hardly have a choice at the moment” he retorted.

“I grant you that, but it doesn’t seem like you have a great social life anyway” Ermal insisted.

“How would you know? You know nothing about me.”

“You’re a good-looking man and you don’t date. You don’t want your family or friends to come over and see you. You just want to be on your own. I bet you quietly resent me being around all the time.”

“I don’t, actually,” Fabrizio replied. “I’m glad not to be alone. I don’t want my friends and family coming over because they’ll just worry about me.”

Ermal was quiet for a moment. “Someone once said to me,” he remarked slowly, as if he was picking his way through the words. “You might think it’s annoying to feel like people are checking up on you, but when you don’t have anyone who cares enough to do it, you miss it. Food for thought.” He placed his head back on Fabrizio’s shoulder and neither of them spoke for the rest of the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, let me know in the box below :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long is a human's memory? Probably not as long as an angel's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it hasn't been long since the last update, but I want to try moving the schedule to a weekday because I'm not sure if Friday works for everyone, and the alternative was to leave a bigger gap between chapters. If it's no good, I can change it back. The last of the teething problems in this chapter, and soon we'll get some of that lovely friendship we've all been waiting for. I hope you enjoy it anyway :)

He was woken by the high-pitched whine of a vacuum cleaner. Confused, he lifted his head and listened. The sound definitely came from the living room.

“Ermal?”

The vacuum droned on. Fabrizio experimentally tried to move his legs and, finding that he could, rolled out of bed and grabbed his stick. He shuffled down to the living room and stopped in the doorway, looking at the scene in disbelief. Ermal was nowhere in sight, but his parents were here. His mother was using all of her strength to push the vacuum across the floor while his father sat on the sofa with a mug of coffee. He had coffee? How long had they been here?

“Hi.”

His mother saw him and turned the vacuum off. “Hello, love. How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I didn't know you were coming over.”

“We knocked, but you were still asleep, so we just came in. I thought you might appreciate some help with the house.”

“Of course I do. I'm a bit surprised, that's all.” His legs were shaking, he noticed. He'd been standing up for too long and swiftly moved to the armchair.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. I'll take care of this.”

“Ermal can do that” he said without thinking.

“He isn't here.”

“No, but...” Actually, would Ermal appear later? Would he rather stay away while Fabrizio's parents were here? He didn't feel confident enough to make a prediction.

“Oh, I brought you some food. It's in the kitchen. I'll unpack it for you.”

His mother headed for the corridor and Fabrizio stood to follow. “I'll help.”

“No need” she called back.

The external doorbell rang before he could take a step. A second later, his front door rattled as the lock was turned, and Ermal pushed it open. He had two sandwich bags in his hand and startled when he saw Fabrizio's father.

“Mr Mobrici, hello! I was just getting some breakfast for Fabrizio. I would have bought something for you if I'd known you were visiting.”

“That's alright,” his father said. “I'm happy with my coffee.”

Ermal smiled at him and turned to Fabrizio. “Bizio, what are you doing? You need to rest or the injections won't work. Sit down.”

Fabrizio obediently returned to the chair. “What injections are you talking about?” his father queried, looking between the two.

“I had a steroid injection yesterday to help my walking” Fabrizio replied.

“How does that work?”

“It strengthens the muscles and takes pressure off the joints so it doesn't hurt so much and...” He broke off as Ermal pushed a sandwich into his hands. “Eat first,” the angel said. “Is your mother here too? I should say hello to her.”

He marched off to the kitchen and Fabrizio tried to lean around the chair, listening to what he might say. “Did the injection help?” his father asked, bringing his attention round. “It's hard to tell at the moment,” he said. “I hope it did.”

The older man nodded thoughtfully. “Painful?”

“Very painful.”

The small talk was once again interrupted by Ermal, returning to the living room after a conversation that couldn’t have lasted longer than thirty seconds. “It looks like it's going to be a busy day, Bizio,” he declared. “Your mother is doing the ironing and I have to finish vacuuming in here. Mr Mobrici, what are you going to do?”

Fabrizio’s father looked astonished to have the spotlight turned on him. “Oh! Um...”

“There is some washing in the machine that needs to go out,” Ermal said smoothly. “I'll help you if you like. Would you prefer to be in charge of clothes or pegs?”

“Um…The pegs then, I'll do the pegs.”

Fabrizio watched his father stand up and precede Ermal outside, looking bewildered, and couldn’t help smirking. That angel was a remarkable manipulator, he thought. He was so skilled at getting people to do what he wanted simply by making them feel that they couldn’t refuse. It probably wasn’t a trait to be admired, but for Fabrizio, who hated confrontation and bent over backwards to avoid troubling people, Ermal’s confidence and no-nonsense attitude was a breath of fresh air. He was exactly the kind of person that Fabrizio wished he could be.

He heard his mother humming in the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, and then her footsteps approached the living room. “I’ve brought you cereal, milk, bread, cheese, spaghetti, a roast chicken, some potatoes and carrots,” she said, listing them off with impressive speed. “That should cover all of your mealtimes, right?”

“Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble. You can pay me back when you’re able. Is Ermal cooking for you?”

Fabrizio thought of Ermal’s attempts to cook since his arrival. Pots bubbling over, spilled oil and egg yolk, incinerated vegetables, yelps as he burned his hand on two occasions, recipe books thrown in a rage across the kitchen. They had lived on takeaway food and microwave meals, and Fabrizio looked forward to the day when he would be able to stand upright for long enough to cook again. His diet hadn’t changed all that much from before the attack, but now that the option of some freshly cooked meals wasn’t there, he was suddenly desperate for them.

“Yes,” he answered quickly, before his mother noticed his hesitation. “He shouldn’t have to do it for much longer. My legs have improved a lot.”

She put a hand on his arm as if he would attempt to leap from the chair at once. “Don’t rush yourself, sweetheart.”

“Why does everyone say that? I want to rush myself. I hate sitting around.”

She smiled sympathetically. “As you said, it won’t be for much longer. By the way, I should buy you a new ironing board. That one must be older than you are.”

Fabrizio opened his mouth to refute the suggestion at once and then paused. Actually, he really did need a new ironing board. The current one had creaking, rusty legs and the cover was torn. He needed a new vacuum as well, but all of the good ones were ridiculously expensive and he had no chance of upgrading.

“I’m going to buy one,” he promised. “It’s on the list.”

“Maybe I’ll get you one for Christmas” his mother suggested, but the twinkle in her eye suggested that she was joking. He honestly wouldn’t mind if he did get an ironing board for Christmas. That was definitely one of the signs of middle age.

She went to the airing cupboard and lifted a pile of T-shirts and jeans. “Can I do something?” he requested. “I can't sit here while people are cleaning my house around me.”

“You can dust if you want. Where are your cloths and polish?”

“Under the sink.”

She brought the supplies to him and left him to it, telling him to call if he needed help. He had no intention of doing that. He got to his feet, moved the few steps to the coffee table, and then sank to his knees to rub it down. The loud metallic squeaks of the ironing board sounded clearly from down the corridor. He finished his first job and pressed his stick into the ground, using it like a staff to haul himself to his feet. Now it was time for the mantelpiece, and all of those trophies and frames. That was not going to be an easy job. He’d probably have to take them to the armchair to polish them and then put them back one by one. It would take forever.

“Bizio, what are you doing? I told you to rest.”

He hadn’t noticed Ermal return, and before he could respond, the angel was manoeuvring him across the room. Sharp pressure on his shoulders caused his legs to buckle neatly and he landed in the armchair. Ermal loomed over him. “You’re only allowed those injections twice a year, so we have to make sure this works as well as it can. The doctor said you need to rest for 48 hours and so you’re going to, even if I have to strap you down to do it.” He smiled sweetly and then went to the vacuum cleaner. Fabrizio opened his mouth, but the loud howl of the suction drowned him out.

Fabrizio’s father arrived a moment later and took his seat on the sofa, hands clasped and staring at the ground. Fabrizio recognised that hunched-up posture from his childhood. It meant that something had offended his father and he was waiting for someone to ask what was wrong. He hated that deadly silence. It was like watching storm clouds gathering on the horizon, knowing there was nothing he could say to clear them. They could last for days sometimes.

Ermal went around the living room quickly and then packed the vacuum cleaner up. “Okay,” he said, with a nervous bounce that Fabrizio couldn’t understand. “I guess I’ll see if there’s anything else to do. Oh, I can strip and make your bed if you want.”

“Thanks,” Fabrizio said. “That would be nice.”

Ermal gave him a thumbs-up and hurried out of the room. Fabrizio looked at his father, now staring silently out of the window. “Papa?” he ventured. His father turned slowly to look at him, his expression blank. “Is everything okay? You’re very quiet.”

“Were you really so upset about what I said?” his father asked.

“What?” Fabrizio frowned.

“That day you fell on the ice. Your nurse said you were telling him about it and you blamed me.”

“I didn’t…” Shock momentarily stole his voice. “What? No, I didn’t blame you. I can’t believe he said that! He saw the trophies and asked about them, so I told him about the fall.”

“You obviously told him that it was because of what I said. Is that why you quit?”

Fabrizio said nothing. The lie required to soothe the older man didn’t come in time. “I really thought that you were planning to give it up anyway,” his father said unhappily. “Was everything that happened afterwards my fault then?”

His voice was accusatory and Fabrizio felt his stomach drop with fear. In an instant he was back to being a teenager, picking his way through a conversation, terrified to say the wrong thing and cause the storm clouds to turn black.

“What do you mean?”

“The drugs, the petty crime, the prison sentence, the inability to hold down a job. Was that my fault?” his father demanded.

“Of course it wasn’t, you were right. I was never going to be a professional skater. You did not derail my life, okay?” He desperately hoped that would be the end of it, but his father would not be dissuaded. “You were never like that before” he remarked.

“I was a difficult teenager! We’ve established this!”

“Do not shout at me” he snapped. The storm clouds were getting darker and the first flashes of lightning could be seen.

“It was so long ago. It doesn’t matter” Fabrizio insisted distraughtly.

“It obviously does if you’ve been telling people.”

“I told one person and that was because he asked. I just…Why did you have to say that? Why did you have to be mean about something that made me happy?” He hadn’t meant to say that and he was horrified to hear the words come out of him. They were the questions of a child and he knew how pathetic they sounded from the mouth of a grown man.

His father looked away and moved his jaw. “Your mother and I had a fight that morning,” he said. “I was bitter and I took it out on you, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done that. We had so little money, Fabrizio. I was working my fingers to the bone and you were out playing at this girly sport that was never going to turn into a career. I apologise if you felt that I was mean, however.”

Fabrizio felt his eyes sting and looked away, taking deep breaths to hold himself together, and biting his fist when that didn’t work. Why was he getting upset so easily these days? Was this something else related to his attack and if so, when was it going to stop? He couldn’t stand looking weak, especially in front of someone like his father.

“Are you crying? Why are you crying?” he demanded, sounding confused and insulted.

“I can’t believe he told you.” Fabrizio heard his voice pitch upwards and suddenly all he wanted was to grab Ermal and scream at him, hurt his throat and make his voice hoarse, punch a wall…He’d never hurt Ermal, he’d never do that to anyone, but he wanted to do something!

“I thought it was out of line too” his father said.

No more was said about it. The storm clouds lightened in colour and Fabrizio suspected that his father was content to believe some wicked usurper had stirred up the past in an attempt to disrupt their relationship, but had been happily foiled in his schemes. Fabrizio himself bided his time, making sure to ignore Ermal and speak only to his parents when his mother made lunch for them all, until the washing machine clicked to indicate the cycle had finished and he saw his chance.

“Need help putting the bedclothes out?” he offered.

Ermal frowned at him. “No, I’m fine. You need your rest.”

Fabrizio was already standing up. “The duvet cover is huge. I’m happy to help, even if it’s only to peg.”

The angel sighed, but nodded. “We’ll be as quick as we can” he said, more of an order than a promise, as he piled the bedclothes out of the machine and into the basket. He offered his hand to help Fabrizio down the steps, but he managed it using only his stick and the careful two-footed descent of a toddler. Seeing that he didn’t need help, Ermal strode across the grass to the washing line and was hanging up pillowcases when Fabrizio reached him.

“Why did you talk to my father?” he asked immediately. Ermal stopped and looked around a pillowcase at him. He looked surprised, but not rueful. “I hoped he would apologise.”

“Oh, he did,” Fabrizio retorted. Sarcasm truly didn’t sound good, he thought, hearing his own voice. His sister always said that he was too nice to carry off sarcasm. Lots of bluster, she said, but no real conviction. “He said he was sorry that I thought he was mean. He already thinks I’m hyper-sensitive. Can you imagine what he thinks of me now, a man in his mid-forties whining about something that happened decades ago?”

“I was trying to help,” Ermal said. “I thought if he atoned, you’d be able to look at the trophies without feeling sad, or talk to your father without swallowing bitterness.”

“He didn’t need to atone for anything!”

“Yes, he did! He hurt you badly enough that you still get upset thinking about it!”

“You don’t have to stick your nose into every aspect of my life,” Fabrizio snapped. “I never asked for a guardian angel and I never asked you to dredge up the past. You’ve just made everything worse. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known you were going to use it as a weapon.”

Ermal looked stunned. He reached down and grabbed another pillowcase from the basket, and tossed it over the line. “I had to try,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out as I planned, but I was only trying to help.”

“Is that what you call it?” Fabrizio muttered. He turned and walked back to the flat, and only when he was inside did he realise that Ermal hadn’t called him back about the pegs. When he returned to the living room, his parents were already wearing their coats.

“We were about to say goodbye,” his mother said, coming over and giving him a hug. “We’re on babysitting duty for Romina today. Do you think you’ll be able to come over for Sunday lunch tomorrow?” She stepped back and looked at him hopefully.

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe…” He avoided looking in his father’s direction.

“Well, if you can, please join us. We’ve missed you over the past few weeks.”

“I’ll call you” he promised. She hugged him again, squeezing him tightly as she had when he was small, and then stepped back. His father took her place and Fabrizio held his breath.

“Fabrizio…I am sorry if…No, I’m sorry that I hurt you so much.” It seemed like the words didn’t come easily, but he forced them out and Fabrizio couldn’t doubt his sincerity. “You and I existed in very different worlds when you were young. I hope you can understand me a little better now.”

“I do.”

“Do you forgive me?”

He almost said it. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but they got stuck there. It had never been about the skating. It had been about his father’s dismissiveness and anger towards something that made him happy, and he could forgive that, but he didn’t think he would be able to forget it. Words like that were impossible to take back, and he doubted that he would ever stop holding a vague sadness about the incident, but he wasn’t going to let the past interfere with future interactions between him and his father.

“I forgive you.”

His father smiled and hugged him, and Fabrizio felt that warm glow of affection that had been so long absent between them. He held on for a few seconds to soak it in before letting him go. “Don’t be a stranger” his father said, his meaning clear, and then he opened the front door and followed his wife outside. Fabrizio watched them go through the living room window with a strange sense of wellbeing, as if a barb had been pulled out of his chest. The apology didn’t mean half as much as the simple acknowledgement that he’d been hurt. He’d never known that that was all he needed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! <3 Let me just thank you all for your continuing support. I realised that I've been writing this for over two months and I still have a very consistent readership, and it means so much to feel like I've created something people enjoy. Now onto the story.

Ermal hadn’t come back from hanging the bedclothes out yesterday. Fabrizio had waited for ten minutes before opening the side door and finding his bedclothes neatly placed along the line, securely pegged, and no sign of Ermal. He’d apologised to the air for being unduly harsh, in case the angel was waiting for something like that before returning, but the flat had still been empty when he gave up and went to bed. He was surprised to realise how unsettled that made him feel, and it wasn’t only for the selfish reason of having no-one to keep his nightmares at bay. Rain had started to pour outside and he wondered where Ermal was, if he'd found a dry place to stay. He hated the thought of the poor angel being soaked because Fabrizio had made him feel that he wasn't wanted. It took him a long time to fall asleep due to worry.

When he woke the next morning and rolled over, he saw a bright red envelope beside the bed. Opening it, he found a card, one with statements and tick boxes on the front to make a message.

‘Dearest…Fabrizio.’ Ermal had written his name in round, sloping letters. ‘I want to…say I’m sorry…in regards to the…stupid…thing I did. (Please don’t make me say it.)’  
Fabrizio had to raise a smile at that, although he noted that Ermal hadn’t ticked the ‘beg for forgiveness’ box. He supposed he couldn’t expect that much contrition.  
‘I promise…I will make it up to you. Let’s move forward. I hope that you…don’t hate me…forgive me…get amnesia and forget what happened.  
Sincerely…Ermal.’

He opened the card and found a simple message written inside. ‘I’m sorry I told your father things that I should have kept inside my head.’

He felt much better today. The nurse had said that the injection worked instantaneously for some people, and for others it took a little longer to kick in. Fabrizio was one of those who needed a bit of time, but now he could definitely feel it working. For the first time, he was able to stand up like a normal person without hunching over or grabbing onto a support.

Ermal was sitting on the kitchen worktop, his long legs almost reaching the floor. His eyes widened when he saw Fabrizio. They looked at each other for several seconds, waiting for the other to speak first.

“Where did you go last night?” Fabrizio finally asked.

“Nowhere. I was on the roof watching the city lights.”

He nodded, feeling a small spark of annoyance for the night he’d spent worrying, before quelling it. He had been the one who made Ermal feel that he couldn’t come inside, after all. “I got your note” he said.

“And what did you think of it?”

“I appreciate it, and I do know that you were trying to help.”

Ermal released a deep breath and rubbed his arm. “I didn’t go about it in the right way. I realise that” he said.

“Actually,” Fabrizio admitted. “It did help. He apologised, like you hoped he would.”

“It wasn’t about what I wanted” Ermal retorted.

“I know. He’s not used to people being that honest with him. I guess he just needed some time to get over the shock. I should thank you, and I should apologise if I upset you with my attitude.”

The angel shrugged and gave him a slight smile. “I’m hard and you’re soft. I guess we both have to get used to that.”

“I think it’s admirable,” Fabrizio said. “The way you stand up for yourself and others. I’d like to have that much courage.”

“Well,” Ermal shrugged again. “It’s in my nature to face things head-on, but sometimes I want to run away from it all.” He looked down, rubbing his palms together. “I know you hate it, but I look at the way other people take charge and look after you, and I think it’d be nice to be taken care of sometimes.”

“We could come up with a more equal arrangement,” Fabrizio said at once. “I could take care of you sometimes. I’m pretty good at that.” He smiled and Ermal smiled back. “That wouldn’t work. This is my job.”

“It’s my job too.”

Ermal’s smile widened, causing his eyes to crinkle up adorably. “I wish I could be like you, connecting with people, making them happy” he said.

“You could be.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

Fabrizio came forward and extended his hand. “Will we try working together?” he asked. Ermal, after a second, shook on it. Fabrizio smiled at him, happy to be back on an even keel. He hated conflict.

“Fabrizio…” Ermal said slowly. “Where’s your stick?”

“What?” He looked down quickly, observing his legs and his distinctly empty hands. “Oh my God! Oh my God, where’s my stick?” He put both hands on the worktop to steady himself. Ermal jumped onto the floor to make room for him. “You don’t look like you need it” he remarked.

“That’s impossible! I’ve only been home for two weeks!”

“Maybe the steroid injection really helped, or I did.”

Fabrizio threw his arms around the angel, hugging him delightedly, only realising his error when Ermal stood there like a piece of cardboard instead of returning the embrace. He swiftly let go and moved back. He didn’t stumble, he noted. He started to pace around the kitchen, taking care over every step, testing how much strain his legs could handle. His spine had a dull ache, but it didn’t translate further than his waist. His knees could hold him up. His feet didn’t cry out in protest. After three circuits of the tiny space, he turned to Ermal and felt a grin spread across his face. “I can go back to work!” he declared.

“Yes…” Ermal said, his small smile conflicting with the confusion in his eyes. “Really, this is your first thought? This is what fills you with joy?”

“I don’t have to live on my savings anymore. That fills me with joy. Oh…” He suddenly remembered and stopped short. “My parents want me to come over for Sunday lunch today.”

Ermal nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t think…um…”

“That I would be welcome? Probably true. The cover story is that I’m a nurse, after all, and you clearly don’t need me to follow you into the bosom of your family. I think today will be a history day. I might go to the Roman Forum, the Colosseum, the Sistine Chapel…”

“The ancient part of Rome and the Vatican City are quite spaced apart, just so you know.”

Ermal answered him with a mischievous grin. “Don’t,” Fabrizio warned. “Do not dare to try flying. I do not want to come back from lunch and find reporters besieging me again.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can hear you thinking.”

Ermal laughed. “Have a nice time with your parents. I’m happy you like me again. It makes life easier.” He headed for the kitchen door. “Please don’t do anything like that again” Fabrizio requested. Ermal stopped and turned to him. “You’re scolding me and yet you’re smiling.”

“Just because it worked does not mean it was the right thing to do.”

“It was the only thing to do. Now you’re happy. You are welcome.” The angel blew a kiss and walked out, leaving Fabrizio dumbfounded. Had he really just done that? God, he was unbelievable! How could anybody be such an asshole and yet be so sweet? How was it possible to be driven mad with frustration and still want to smile?

**

He had once enjoyed Sunday lunches with his family. They were large-scale affairs, involving not only his parents and siblings, but aunts, uncles, cousins, partners, ex-partners, children and sometimes even friends. As a child, they had provided abundant company to play with. Hosting duties passed around the family on a weekly basis as no-one could be expected to regularly provide such a feast, but since his family had all lived in one building while he was growing up, that had only meant moving up or down flights of stairs to attend.

As a teenager, his attendance had dwindled from every week to whenever his mother was hosting and he couldn't escape, and then he stopped going at all. He became one of the cousins who were spoken about with shame and concern. Even when he turned his life around, he hadn't felt able to show his face until Libero was born. It felt like his son was a gift he was bringing to gain admission. Even if his parents didn't want to see him, perhaps they would want see their grandchild, he thought. His kids had formed a bridge across the chasm between him and his parents, giving them something to reconnect over. When they moved away, he'd stopped coming again, unable to face the questions and being surrounded by people when he was so alone. Today was only his third visit in the past six months.

Within ten minutes, Fabrizio found out that he couldn't stand crowds. He'd never been fond of being crammed into a small space with lots of other people, but it was something he'd had to get used to, growing up in a big family. His dislike had been pragmatic- how hot it was, how difficult it was to move without bumping into someone- but now he felt genuinely claustrophobic, as if his chest was being crushed. He checked every room in the flat and the hallway of the building in search of some breathing space, and eventually found himself hiding in the bathroom, sucking in air from the open window.

Romina forced him to come out to help with the dinner. His mother was taking care of the bruschetta, his brother was cooking the lamb chops and his sister was chopping garlic for the seasoning, so he was handed the easy job of drinks. White wine for the adults and lemonade for the children was a simple order, but the heat in the kitchen was extraordinary, and the smell of oil and vinegar and garlic was unexpectedly nauseating. That was surely a sign that he'd gone too long without a home-cooked meal, he thought, as he attempted not to keel over while pouring.

There were two pieces of news dominating the afternoon. The first was discussion about one of Fabrizio's many cousins, who had left his wife and child last Thursday to go travelling for a year, claiming that he'd given up too much time to work and family, and wanted to live a little before he was dead. The response from the women was scathing, and from some of the men too, although a few uncles dared to voice their envy that the man could have the best of both worlds- a bit of freedom before he returned to his welcoming family. The aunts howled with laughter.

“If he thinks he can take up where he left off, he will be sorely disappointed” Zia Beatrice declared, to loud cries of agreement.

The other piece of news was Fabrizio himself. People kept reaching over to touch his hand or shoulder, praising him or asking him how he was doing, ignoring it when his shoulders began to draw up defensively.

“Your mother was very worried that you would be paralysed, but I see you're doing well” his aunt said.

“I'm attending physiotherapy and my doctor is going to write a prescription for painkillers, so yeah, I'm fine.”

“I hope they're not addictive” his uncle remarked.

“I don't think so. It would show up on my medical record” Fabrizio replied, a little bitingly, which shut down conversation for a few seconds. It swiftly restarted with talk of children, exchanging stories of new babies or impressive feats at school, and that was something he could definitely join in with. On this subject, he could talk for days.

Dessert was a cheesecake that his mother had prepared and refrigerated ahead of time, made with ricotta and flavoured with lemons. More wine was poured and conversation became louder, more nonsensical and more hilarious. In the middle of the afternoon, no-one would call them drunk, but they were certainly tipsy. Anyone who remained stone-cold sober at a Mobrici family gathering was unlikely to have a good time.

Fabrizio checked his watch. It was coming up to 4pm. “I think I'd better go.”

His mother turned away from the conversation, waving a hand at him. “No, darling, stay a little while longer.”

“I can't drink too much. I have to drive.”

Her eyes popped. “Drive? You can't drive. You told us so. It's not safe.”

“Oh. Well, I drove here so I have to take the car back. I'm sure it'll be...”

“It's not safe, Fabrizio,” she said again. “Why don't you stay here tonight? We'll take you home in the morning.”

“Or that nurse can come and get your car, if you haven't fired him yet” his father suggested.

“Um...”

“So it's settled,” his mother said, taking advantage of his hesitation. “You stay here and call him tomorrow to pick you up.”

“That's not how it works. He's not a taxi. Besides, he has other patients to attend to,” Fabrizio had no idea what he was saying, where he was going with this, whether the lie would have any consequences further down the road. He was driven only by desperate cabin fever and the desire to get out of here as soon as possible. “The therapy is working and I don't need round-the-clock help now, so he's not staying with me anymore.” He stood up and pushed his chair in. “I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have driven so soon, but I did and I really need to get home. I want to start work again tomorrow and I'll need to go home for a change of clothes anyway.”

His mother turned away and put a hand to her forehead. He saw her face crumple with the onset of tears. “You're always running away from us.”

“Mamma, I'm not. I have to go,” he insisted, feeling so horribly guilty that he almost sat down again. “Besides, I can’t sleep on that old bed right now. I need support for my back.”

“I know,” she sighed, wiping her fingers under her eyes. “Call us as soon as you're back to let us know you're safe.”

“I will,” Fabrizio leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for a lovely dinner.”

She held onto his hand for a moment, patting it affectionately, before she let him go. “Thank you for coming. We've missed your face around here.”

He was a little embarrassed to be the first to leave, mainly because he knew they would talk about him. “Oh, poor Fabrizio, that whole incident must have really messed up his head. Why else would he leave his warm and helpful family to go back to an empty flat?”

Except his flat wasn't empty, and he couldn't explain the little jump of excitement he felt at that thought. He was sharing his home with a prickly hedgehog of a person, but one who was starting to show a softer side, and whom Fabrizio cautiously hoped could be a friend. They'd left things on a good note this morning. He only hoped their agreement would stand the test of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Men at work :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! <3 I reached 100 comments on last chapter and I'm really happy about that! As always, thanks so much to everyone who reads. Please enjoy :)

The next morning, Fabrizio woke at 5.30am. That was early even for him, who preferred to aim for a 6am start, but he had been chased out of slumber by a vivid sensation of something sitting on his chest, crushing his lungs, and knowing that he had to wake up if he was to avoid death. He barely managed it, and sat up straight in the bed, gasping for breath until he was certain that he was safe. He knew he couldn’t go back to sleep. The fear was waiting for him. It would kill him if he went back there. He got up and tried to move towards the kitchen as quietly as possible, an ambition soon rendered fruitless when his leg fell to one side and he knocked his shoulder against the partition wall. Ermal was inside the room within a second.

“What are you doing? Did you have a nightmare?” he asked.

“No. Well, yes, but I’m going to work now.”

“Now?” The angel squinted at him, as if wondering whether Fabrizio had lost his mind. “I might as well go since I’m awake,” he explained. “It’ll let me get home earlier.”

“What time will you be home?”

Fabrizio tried to ignore the brief, but powerful sense of deja-vu that washed over him. He’d been asked that question so many times by Giada. It was a strange and unsettling feeling to hear the words in a different voice.

“I don’t know. It depends. I’ll try to be home before seven.”

Ermal closed his eyes and released a sigh, and then walked over to the wardrobe. “What are you wearing?” he asked.

“You decide” Fabrizio replied. It would save him from having to choose something, and it would save him from having to get changed if Ermal didn’t like his choice. The angel flicked through the hangers for a moment and then threw a pair of black jeans onto the bed. A moment later, they were joined by a black shirt that Giada had bought for him, and which was too formal for everyday use.

“You can’t go wrong with black” Ermal said, moving to the drawers. “What about a T-shirt?” Fabrizio suggested.

“Oh my…” Ermal pulled out a monstrous white hoodie and turned in askance. Fabrizio stared at it and grinned. “I forgot I had that,” he said, coming over and taking it away. “Libero bought it for Father’s Day. The poor kid wanted it to be a surprise so he didn’t ask what size I was. He just assumed XL was the default for men.” He wrapped his arms around the hoodie, hoping that he didn’t look like he was giving a hug to a piece of clothing, even though he was.

“And what about this?”

He looked up to see Ermal holding another hoodie, this one bright pink with ‘Papa’ written in glittering black letters across the back, and burst out laughing. “That’s from Anita.”

Ermal laughed too. “Well, it fits you, so…” He tried to hand it over and Fabrizio pushed it away. “Not a chance” he squeaked, speaking through the giggles. Ermal sighed good-humouredly and put the pink hoodie away, delving into the drawer and emerging triumphantly with a simple black zip-up. A white crest in the corner was the only decoration.

“This seems more your style” he said, handing it over. “It is” Fabrizio agreed. He gave the white hoodie to Ermal and the angel promptly pulled it over his head, emerging with his curls draped over his eyes, and pushing them back so he could see. The hoodie swamped him, reaching past his thighs and covering his hands, the sleeves hanging down like a pair of tentacles.

“You look good” Fabrizio said politely. “I feel cosy” the angel replied, looking down at himself with satisfaction. “Alright,” Fabrizio thumbed over his shoulder. “Be gone so I can get dressed.”

Ermal obediently shuffled out, having to take small bouncing steps due to the restrictions around his legs. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, Fabrizio bent over and muffled his laughter in the duvet. Well, at least he was wide awake and ready for the day now. His cheeks ached from smiling so much and his heart was buoyant. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to simply be silly and laugh about nothing. How long had it been since he’d done that?

He dressed quickly, replacing the formal black shirt with an old comfy T-shirt, and hiding it under the jacket. Ermal was standing in the middle of the living room when he emerged, no longer clad in the white hoodie, but now in slim black trousers and a white shirt covered in small purple dots.

“Can I come with you?” he asked as soon as he saw Fabrizio. He stopped short and frowned in surprise. “You want to come to work with me?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“I guess not. Why though?”

Ermal smiled as if he’d been waiting for this question. “Because I feel like I’m sitting inside a giant liver, and your TV doesn’t work.”

Fabrizio gave him a dry look. “You could have just said that you were bored.”

There was a small scuffle over the keys- Ermal insisting that he could drive, albeit not legally, and Fabrizio threatening not to let him come if he didn’t get in the passenger seat- before they were able to head onto the road. Ermal was not a good passenger, wincing when Fabrizio took corners too fast or drove a little too close to the pavement, yelping in horror when he took one or both hands off the wheel. Finally, at 6am, they pulled up outside the centre. Ermal took a moment to stare up at the building. Through fresh eyes, Fabrizio supposed that it looked a little grim, with its industrial façade and barbed wire.

“So what do you do here? Shelter for the homeless?” Ermal asked, following him to the door.

“No, we’re not a shelter,” Fabrizio explained as he stepped inside. “We help former addicts and convicts kick their old habits, get into accommodation, turn their lives around. I guess it’s not so different from what you do.”

He glanced back to make sure Ermal was following, seeing the angel looking around the entrance hall with a slight frown. “Don’t look like that,” Fabrizio snapped, hearing how defensive he sounded. “I know it’s not…”

“What?” Ermal’s frown deepened.

“It doesn’t pay well, and it’s not easy, but it’s fulfilling.”

“Who are you defending yourself to? It’s not me.”

Fabrizio turned away, feeling a sudden urge for a cigarette. After a second, he turned back. “My father wanted me to work on a construction site or train as a mechanic like him. They’re better-paid and more skilled according to him” he admitted.

“Looking after people is a skill in itself” Ermal said.

“I think he believes I only have that skill because…” Fabrizio cut himself off quickly and started walking again. Ermal was by his side in an instant. “Oh, squeaky clean Fabrizio has a past?” he probed, half-teasing. Fabrizio smiled reluctantly. “That’s my clue,” he said. “I’m not doing this for selfless reasons either. I used to be one of these people and now I’m trying to help them escape like I did.”

Ermal was silent for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s a big improvement from arson,” he declared. “In fact, I think it’s quite noble.”

Fabrizio glanced at him. “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” the angel retorted, sounding offended. “Contrary to what you might think, I am capable of sincerity.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He opened the door to the office to find that he wasn’t the first to arrive. Roberto’s head popped up from behind the computer, and he scrambled to his feet. “Fabrizio! You didn’t say you were coming in today!”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to call ahead. I thought because it’s Monday…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Roberto waved his concerns away, pulling him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.” He squeezed affectionately and then stepped back, looking at Ermal. “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m Ermal.”

“This is my…uh, I suppose my support worker,” Fabrizio said. “He drives me and helps me with practical things while I’m recovering.”

“That’s good service,” Roberto remarked. “I didn’t get anything like that when I broke my leg.”

“You have a desk job, Roberto. You don’t need one.”

His friend grinned at him and headed back to his desk. “Do you want Caroline’s file?” he asked. “I’ve been taking care of her while you were gone. Actually, no, you sit down and rest. I’ll do the running about.”

“I’d rather get back on visits. I hate the idea of unfinished business.”

“Fabrizio?” He turned towards the new voice and saw Claudio in the doorway, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “I didn’t know you were coming back today. Did you know, Roberto?” he demanded, faintly accusatory, as he came towards them. “We would have got you a cake.”

“That’s really not necessary” Fabrizio assured him.

“Claudio, this is Ermal,” Roberto said. “He’s going to assist Fabrizio with work, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Claudio smiled at him briefly. “Fabrizio, Roberto has been taking care of the visits while you were gone. It’d probably be better for you to rest and he can finish up the current cases. The clients like consistency.”

“I see. I understand.” That didn’t mean that he liked it. Telephony was his most hated part of the job. He liked to visit clients and talk to them in person. Sitting at a desk and arguing with service providers or, even worse, dealing with client complaints was a nightmare. He didn’t know how he would make it through the day if they didn’t let him leave the office.

“This one came in today though,” Roberto piped up, coming to the rescue. “You can go to her if you want. It’ll just be talking, the usual.”

Fabrizio looked at the folder that he’d been handed. The name on the front was Teresa Russo, and he barely restrained a sigh. Of course Roberto would leap at the opportunity to get rid of her. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Thanks” he said.

“Oh, Claudio, tell him the story” Roberto said excitedly.

“Which one?”

“The thirty thousand euros.”

“Thank you for spoiling the end,” Claudio smiled. “Yes, you remember the foundation that we’ve had eight meetings with? Eight meetings with three different managers, no less, and not a cent. Well, they had their budget meeting two weeks ago and I went over there to persuade them to add an amendment for us.”

“He ambushed them” Roberto interjected. “They’ve had three courses and wine, coffee and cakes at our expense. I believe in quid pro quo,” Claudio replied with dignity. “Anyway, I was very respectful. I gave them some information to help them make a decision and they awarded us thirty thousand euros. I did not ambush anyone.”

“That’s really impressive, Claudio. Well done” Fabrizio said. Claudio grinned proudly.

“What’s the other story?” Ermal asked, speaking up for the first time. “You said there was another one.”

All three of them looked at him, surprised. “Oh…” Claudio paused awkwardly and then ploughed on, directing his words to Fabrizio. “I no longer have feelings for Giorgia.”

“Really? Why?”

“No reason. Thinking about what happened with us, and what happened to you, made me do a lot of thinking and take stock. We’re better as friends.”

Fabrizio eyed him sceptically. “So this profound, all-consuming devotion that I’ve listened to you talk about for months has just…gone? Switched off like a Christmas tree?”

“Exactly,” his friend nodded vehemently. “I’m moving on.”

“If you say so.”

“People do change, Fabrizio. It’s all about adapting. So Giorgia and I are never going to get together. Am I honestly saying that I can’t be happy without her? Of course I can. I mean, it’s like this job. I love it, but if I had to leave it for whatever reason, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

Fabrizio felt a chill of fear run through him and quickly disguised it with a laugh. “Claudio, don’t even say that. You run this ship,” he said lightly. “Alright, Ermal, will we go and take care of the morning’s business?”

“Sounds great, lovely to meet you guys,” Ermal said cheerfully, hurrying after his companion. “So who are we visiting today?”

“Teresa. I got her an apartment a few weeks ago, but she’s missed several doctors’ appointments and her attendance at the drug counselling sessions are tailing off, so a follow-up is in order. Hey…” Fabrizio began and then stopped, shaking his head. “No.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was going to take advantage of you for a second, sorry.”

Ermal grinned and briefly rested his head against Fabrizio’s shoulder, an impressive feat since they were walking. “Were you going to ask for angelic intervention in this case?”

“Nothing too dramatic, maybe just giving her enough energy to go to the bus stop for the addiction meetings” he admitted.

“Is that her excuse?”

“Yes, and it is an excuse. She’s afraid of what her life will become without drugs. I know…” He nearly finished the sentence, saying ‘I used to feel the same way’, but stopped in time. The trust between them was still tentative, an infant taking its first steps, and not ready for admissions of that magnitude yet.

Teresa lived in a high-rise building with a lift that had been broken for six weeks on Fabrizio’s last visit. When he arrived today, it was repaired and fully functional. Teresa took a step back in surprise when she opened the door.

“Were you due today?” she asked, standing back to let him enter. “It’s nice to see you, but I’d have tidied up if I’d known. Did you call me?”

“I did,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it, we can talk face to face.”

“Hello, you’re a new face” she said.

“This is Ermal. He’s on work experience.”

The flat was spotless, and pink curtains and sparkly cushions had appeared to replace the drab grey furnishings that were present on Teresa’s first day. Photos of her sons and granddaughter were lined up along the mantelpiece and her shoes- all brightly coloured with skyscraper high heels- were lined up neatly along the fireplace. “The place looks nice” Fabrizio remarked.

“Do you like what I’ve done with it?”

“I do.”

She beamed with pride. “Thank you. I’d hate to make you walk into a pigsty. It’s a disgrace how some of these people take a perfectly good flat and ruin it.”

She sat on the sofa and pulled a blanket over her legs. Fabrizio sat on the armchair and Ermal, after casting about for a place to sit, perched on the arm of the sofa between them. Fabrizio talked pleasantries for a few moments, asking what she was reading, if she’d seen her granddaughter recently, if she was ever planning to go to the doctor about that persistent cough, and finally got to the subject he really wanted to talk about.

“Did you go to your addiction meeting last week?” he asked casually, flicking through his notes as if the question was of no consequence.

“Erm…I might have. I’m not sure.”

Fabrizio looked up at her. She had pulled the blanket over her bony shoulders and refused to make eye contact. “I remember…” she said slowly. “I got up to go, but I got to the bus stop and realised I didn’t have any money. So I came back home and looked but by the time I found some, it was too late.”

She looked pleased with her airtight alibi. Fabrizio set his notes aside and leaned forward. “Teresa, do you want a referral to rehab?” he asked. “You know I do!” she protested, launching into another violent coughing fit. “Frankly I think you’re taking your sweet time about giving it to me.”

“I can’t get you in there immediately. To be considered for a referral, you need to demonstrate that you’re committed by attending the weekly meetings.”

“I don’t want to have to stand up and say ‘My name is Teresa and I’m an addict’.”

“You have to go to those sessions. I’d be happy to go with you” Fabrizio insisted.

“I’d never miss them normally,” Teresa went on, deaf to the offer. “People who do that are a disgrace. It’s no wonder the country is in such a state, all these time-wasters making appointments and then not bothering to go. It’s terrible.”

Fabrizio nodded. “So are you going this week?”

“Definitely,” she declared. “I’ve just had lots to do, that’s all. I promise I’ll go to the one on Friday.”

“Thursday.”

“Sorry, Thursday. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

There was little more that could be said then, and Fabrizio told her to call if she needed anything. He knew she wouldn’t; she never picked up her phone and used it even less. He worried constantly about her reconnecting with her old junkie friends. They were the biggest danger to her chances of kicking the habit, but short of frog-marching her to a meeting, a move which could have no long-term benefits, there was nothing he could do. As they left, Ermal turned in the doorway.

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Teresa. This job is so interesting. I’m learning more and more each day” he said, and extended his hand. She shook it and he tugged her slightly towards him, putting a light kiss on her cheek.  
“Oh!”  
She pulled back and put a hand on her chest like a fairytale maiden, a gesture which Fabrizio hadn’t known people performed in real life. He could have sworn that Ermal winked at her before turning away. He quickly bid Teresa farewell and hurried down the stairs after him.

“What was that?” he demanded.

Ermal turned and smirked at him, almost unbearably smug. “That was a little gift to you. I gather she’s a difficult client.”

“She’s not difficult,” Fabrizio retorted defensively. “She’s a model client in a lot of ways. It’s just that one part of her recovery isn’t quite happening.”

“You don’t have to defend her to me,” Ermal replied. “I can tell from the way you talk to her that you’ve been going around in circles, and I do believe that she genuinely wants to get better, which is why I helped. She will go to the meeting this week, I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

He grinned. “A little bit of angel power. The touch of an angel is good luck, you see, and the kiss of an angel is great luck.”

“Oh,” Fabrizio nodded. “Well, I have a lot of paperwork to do back at the office, so do you think a little bit of luck would help me get it done by 6pm?”

Ermal wordlessly lifted his palm and Fabrizio pressed his against it, holding it there. He felt like he was engaging in some kind of devious plot with a partner-in-crime, and the thought made him grin. Ermal smiled back. He really did have a lovely smile. Fabrizio wondered why he’d never noticed that before.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold hands, warm hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! :) A note of thanks to everyone who managed to bring the viewing figures for both of my stories to round figures on the same day, and also to the ones who paid a visit later. Special thanks to my Four Horsemen (Prosperity, Peace, Health and Life) whose support for my writing means more than I can say. Please enjoy <3

The next day, he slept in, waking at 8am and nearly falling out of bed in his haste. There was only time for a shower or breakfast, not both, so he elected to wash and get food later. Throughout all of his rushing around, tripping over his own feet, Ermal was lying on the sofa with his face covered by a magazine. Finally Fabrizio was dressed and ready to go, and tapped the angel on the shoulder. “I'm going to work now” he said.

“Have fun.”

“Are you coming?”

“I don't think so. It's not for me. Too much walking.”

“Alright,” Fabrizio was surprised at the little pang he felt. It had been nice to have company yesterday. After Teresa, he’d been abandoned on telephones while Roberto and Claudio did their rounds. With someone to talk to, and Ermal employing his usual amusing distractions, the day had seemed to fly. “Um...If you...”

Ermal lowered the magazine slightly to look at him over the page. “If you're staying home, would you mind cooking dinner?" Fabrizio said quickly, internally flinching. “I'll try,” Ermal said shortly, lifting the magazine in front of his face and shaking the pages. It was a clear sign of dismissal. “See you later.”

“See you.”

His day was suspiciously sedentary. He wouldn't accuse his colleagues of leaving insultingly small tasks on his desk yet, but if it continued in this manner, he might have to. His only opportunity to get out of the office was to have a cup of tea with a newly relocated client who was feeling isolated in a neighbourhood full of strangers. Fabrizio was unable to offer anything except some company for a morning and encouragement to talk to her neighbours. The visit had no long-term benefits, but her spirits were improved when he left, no matter how temporarily. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the phone, discussing with a landlord whether a tenant was in fact still dealing drugs from their new apartment, and having to hear from a probation officer that their mutual client was nowhere to be found at any of his known addresses.

He filled the day in another manner. There were advantages to being out of Ermal’s sight and away from his interference. It allowed Fabrizio the freedom to visit some of his most difficult clients under the radar. Even his colleagues didn’t know that he did this. He suspected they would disapprove of his extra activities, so he could only imagine the reaction that a touchy angel would have. At lunch time, he went shopping and swept through the bargain section of the supermarket. He bought water, milk, bread, tins of spaghetti, some frozen dinners, sausages, bacon, cheese, eggs, fruit at 50% off and vegetables that had been reduced to cents because of their deformed shape, along with some biscuits and sweets as a treat.

After making his purchases, he called Simone to see how he was, and the lunch hour turned into two as he sat on a park bench, listening to his former client pour out his negative feelings. There was a lot that could affect Simone’s mood, from daytime charity advertisements about abused donkeys to a stranger who had looked at him with apparent anger. Sometimes it just seemed to happen if he hadn’t spoken to anyone for a while. Fabrizio suspected that he didn’t need counselling so much as someone who was willing to listen. It was occasionally frustrating to go through the same script again and again, but he had told Giada about it once, and she’d said something that stuck with him.

“Depression is like asthma. You don’t cure it, you manage it. You’re the inhaler he’s chosen.”

He managed to get Simone off the phone by asking if he’d looked for any jobs this week, and sucked in a deep breath. If he was an inhaler, he must be a good one. They were now on three years and ten months without an attack.

After work, he went over to Caterina’s house. He hadn’t worked with her for months, but he visited occasionally for her three children. It was a difficult situation because from the outside, she seemed to be doing everything right. She now worked three jobs, but somehow they didn’t seem to pay enough to keep her children fed and clothed. Fabrizio had never been able to work out why. The money didn’t seem to be going anywhere else. He’d tried to convince her to give up one of the jobs, which would qualify her for benefits and let her stay home with the kids more often, but she’d flat-out refused. The stigma of taking money from the state apparently took precedence over sending her children to school with breakfast. Fabrizio found it incredibly difficult not to get frustrated with her.

He’d deliberately gone in the early evening, when her cleaning job had finished and her job at the bar hadn’t started yet, in hopes of catching her. She was home, and scowled when she opened the door to him. He knew that she hated him and thought he was an interfering nuisance, hurting her pride with his silent insinuation that she wasn’t looking after her kids properly. He didn’t care. He handed the shopping bags over to her.

“There are apples and raspberries, and I know the kids love raspberries. You can make apple pie as well. I’ve got carrots and potatoes, and there are sausages, bacon and eggs in there too if you have time for a meal in the evening. If you don’t have time, you can make cheese on toast or spaghetti. I got a few frozen meals…”

She closed the door in his face. He’d long ago stopped being offended. He’d done what he could for now. He drove back home and entered a curiously empty flat. No Ermal in the living room, no Ermal in the kitchen, no Ermal in the bedroom. He tried the bathroom door and found that unlocked and also devoid of life.

“Ermal?”

He cast his mind back over recent events. They hadn’t fought. In fact, they’d had fun yesterday. Ermal had seemed to be in a bit of a mood this morning, but Fabrizio wasn’t sure why. It couldn’t have been caused by anything he did, right? Of course not. There was no logical reason to worry. The angel had the freedom to come and go, and he’d probably be back soon. Fabrizio had no idea why he was fretting, when Ermal wasn’t a child and could certainly look after himself. He was going too far in his attempts to be caring, he thought. If he wasn’t careful, he risked becoming a genuine nuisance. He opened the side door just to check the garden, and stared in disbelief at the scene. Ermal was lying on the grass, wearing only sunglasses and a pair of shorts, looking as if he was sunbathing even though the sun had set hours ago.

Fabrizio leaned against the doorframe and waited for the angel to acknowledge his presence. He didn’t. He was completely still, and without being able to see his eyes, it was hard to tell whether he was asleep or not. “I see you had a tough day” Fabrizio remarked conversationally.

“I would like to inform you that I vacuumed the floors and cleaned your trophies. I haven’t been here all day” Ermal replied immediately. Fabrizio turned to hide a smirk. “I see. Just long enough that you’re wearing sunglasses at night.”

Ermal lifted his sunglasses to look at him. “Envy is one of the seven deadly sins” he remarked.

“So is sloth. I’ve been on my feet for eleven hours while you’ve been sunning yourself, so forgive me if I need a moment.”

“There is enough lawn for two if you’d like to join me,” the angel said acerbically. “What kept you anyway? I made food and you weren’t here. I had to bin it.”

“Thanks for that. I’ll order a pizza. Do you want to share?”

Ermal climbed to his feet. “No need.” He walked briskly across the grass and past Fabrizio. “I’m bored enough to cook again. I know I complain about the humans who treat me like a servant, but they are usually grateful and it keeps me busy. With you, I can’t do anything.”

“What a hard life you lead,” Fabrizio retorted, following him into the kitchen. “If you’re really so bored, you should come to work with me, or maybe look for a little part-time job to get you out of the house.”

“Volunteer to run around after people that it’s not my job to run around after? No thank you.” Ermal turned on the stove and pulled a saucepan out of the bottom drawer, along with a thin pink recipe book from the 1950s. 

“Did you have a good day?” Fabrizio asked, leaning against the worktop to watch him. “It started off well, and then it went downhill around 11,” Ermal replied. He pulled a band off his wrist and tied his curls into a half-bun at the back of his head, a move so unexpected that Fabrizio felt his mouth hang open for a second. “After that, the only highlight was a trip to a hardware shop to buy a bath mat.”

The added information brought him back to reality. “Why did you decide to buy a bath mat?” he asked.

“If you slip in the shower, I'm the one who'll have to pick you up, and I'm not doing that.” Ermal grabbed pasta from the cupboard and poured it into the saucepan.

“It's a thoughtful gift, thank you, although you've been here for a while and I've never slipped. Where does this sudden concern come from?”

There was a hesitation. Ermal moved away, filled the kettle with water and turned it on before answering. “I slipped” he said quietly.

“Did you? Oh no! What happened?”

“I was listening to the radio and tried to dance.”

Fabrizio snorted before he could stop himself. Ermal spun around, his embarrassment exploding into indignation. “Don't laugh!” 

“I'm sorry! Really, I'm sorry. Were you hurt?”

“No.”

“I...” He reached out to touch Ermal's shoulder, and then had to turn and hurry out of the kitchen before he started laughing again. The image of this elegant creature trying to dance to some 80s disco track and going head over heels was too funny. He had never been immune to some slapstick humour.

“I don't even have to do this, you know!” Ermal yelled after him. “This isn't in my job description. You can cook your own damn food if that's your attitude.”

“I’m sorry” Fabrizio called again, still chuckling as he sat down on the sofa. The magazine that Ermal had been reading this morning was still on the coffee table, open on a quiz called ‘The Golden Standard of Beauty.’ Ermal had filled it out, he noted, and gotten 33%. Obviously the quiz had no idea what it was talking about. To fill the time, Fabrizio went through the questions himself. He got 89% and scoffed derisively as he closed the magazine and tossed it into the junk pile. His chest and stomach felt light with amusement and happiness, just like yesterday morning, the heavy stress of the day simply vanished.

That heavy feeling had once followed him around all evening, he thought. He’d worked all day, come home to his empty flat, and waited for the next day’s work to start. What was different now? He had someone to talk to, someone to come home to, something to look forward to? Something to fill the weekends, someone else to think about? He’d missed living with someone, he realised.

“Here's your food.” Ermal appeared with one plate of spaghetti, only one, and set it in front of him.

“Aren't you eating?”

“No.”

He soon discovered why. The pasta was what he would charitably call al dente, which really meant cold and chewy. If it hadn't been covered in water, he wouldn't have believed that it had been cooked at all.

“I don't mean to be a bother, but is there any sauce?” he asked.

Ermal went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of ketchup. Not tomato sauce, but ketchup. “Are you good?” he asked. “Okay, I’m going back out to stargaze. You’re welcome to join me.”

Fabrizio stayed in the living room for another ten minutes, working his way determinedly through the pasta, as what little heat it contained escaped and left him feeling like he was chewing plastic. Soon he would start cooking again, he swore, soon. When the plate was cleared, he left it in the sink and went out to the garden. Ermal was sitting on the grass, legs outstretched in front of him, and gave Fabrizio a smile as he lowered himself onto the ground beside him. 

“How are your legs?” he asked.

“They’re working well, although I don’t know if I’ll be able to get up from here” Fabrizio admitted ruefully.

“That’s why you have me.”

Fabrizio smiled at him and looked up at the sky. “I don’t see many stars.”

“You can see them if you squint,” Ermal said. “If you want, I can fly you to the roof and we can see the lights of Rome instead.”

“I’ll pass. I’m not a big fan of city lights. They always make me feel very alone.”

Ermal looked at him curiously. “It makes me think of all the people who are at home with their families” Fabrizio explained. The angel nodded and momentarily put a hand on his shoulder, and then lay on his back and looked up at the sky. A peaceful silence reigned for several minutes. Ermal looked deep in thought, so Fabrizio decided not to disturb him and simply sat there until the cold started to get to him.

“I have to go in now” he said. He tried to stand, failed, tried again and made it halfway. A hand on his back gave him the extra push required to find his feet.

“Can I have your phone number?” Ermal asked. 

“Excuse me?” Fabrizio looked down at him. “Why do you want it?”

Ermal looked away. “Forget about it, it’s fine.”

“No, I’m curious now,” Fabrizio insisted, bending as far as his knees would let him. “You don’t even have a phone, do you?”

“There are public phones” Ermal muttered, not meeting his eye.

“Why would you need my phone number? We’re living together. Do you want to call me at work?”

“No, just…” Ermal closed his eyes as if he was in pain and then sat up. “I thought you had an accident, okay? I thought you’d be back by seven and it’s past nine now, and…Humans are so stupidly fragile. Anything could have happened. I want to call you so you can tell me if you’re working late.”

Fabrizio stared at him. It had never occurred to him that Ermal would worry about him. A few hours surely weren’t a big deal. His friends would worry about him if he hadn’t been seen for a day or two, but nobody would think anything of him working late. Even Giada had been used to it. He must have truly gotten used to living alone, not having to take other people into account. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry” he said finally.

“It’s fine. You’re one of the good ones, that’s all,” Ermal said dismissively. “You don’t yell at me, or tell me I’m not allowed to use your shower or eat your food, or make me sleep on the floor, or make me do petty stuff. I don’t want to be reassigned so you have to look after yourself.”

He looked at Ermal and it was as if he was seeing him for the first time. ‘You lied to me,’ he thought. ‘You lied when you said you do nothing except what you’re compelled to. You care.’ Out of nowhere, he felt a rush of fierce protectiveness for this angel.

“Okay, I will.”

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kneel and put his hand over Ermal’s. The angel glanced down and then turned it over to put their palms together. “You’re warm” he remarked.

“You’re cold” Fabrizio replied.

“Cold hand, warm heart,” Ermal smiled at him. “That’s what my mother always said. I don’t know if it’s true. Look how tanned you are compared to me.” He grinned down at their hands and Fabrizio looked too. Ermal’s skin, already pale in daylight, now glowed gently. His hand looked like a doll’s, smooth skin and long fingers next to Fabrizio’s darker hand with lines that indicated how many years it had lived and how much it had done. He thought about that magazine quiz and wanted to ask why Ermal had done it, how he had taken the result, did he know that result was completely wrong? He wanted to say that Ermal didn’t need a magazine to tell him he was pretty when a mirror could do the job just as well, but to speak those words aloud would start a conversation that he didn’t know how to finish, and so he said nothing at all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *slaps top of chapter* This bad boy can hold so much friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my readers <3 Also I really intended for this chapter to be more fluffy than it turned out to be, but I ended up finishing the recovery so it's still a bit angsty. Next chapter is going to be so nice, I promise! Please enjoy :)

Over the next few weeks, they began to fall into a smooth routine. Ermal didn’t come to work with Fabrizio again, but he would always be awake first and Fabrizio would always come into the kitchen to find two deli sandwiches waiting for him. On one morning, he dared to ask whether it would be possible to have something different, perhaps a fruit smoothie. The next day, he was served a glass of mashed fruit that was so thick, it was undrinkable.

“What’s in this?” he asked.

Ermal counted off on his fingers. “Raspberries, blueberries, bananas and apple juice.”

“How much apple juice?” Fabrizio took a spoon and tried to stir it. The spoon got stuck in the mixture and wouldn’t move.

“Just a little bit, I didn’t want to make it too watery.”

It warmed his heart to see what an effort the angel made to be accommodating. He was starting to realise that if Ermal saw an opportunity to assist, he would throw himself head-first into it. The notion of admitting that he didn’t know how to do something had never occurred to him. Fabrizio determined not to rock the boat again on culinary issues, but nevertheless he found that he liked his constant companion. It was hard not to be cheered by a bright smile in the morning and coming home in the evening to questions about his day. He’d gotten used to being alone, but always having someone in the flat had swiftly turned to something very pleasant.

They would eat their breakfast together, and on weekends, Ermal would have newspapers waiting on the coffee table. Fabrizio was allowed to choose which section to read first. He was very predictable in his choices, always going for the sports section followed by the general news and the classified ads. Ermal was equally unsurprising, reading the reviews first and then the Lonely Hearts. They got into the habit of passing the papers around without even needing to speak. Fabrizio found it amusing to have the section he wanted handed to him as soon as he opened his mouth, as if he and the angel had developed a telepathic connection.

When he left for work, Ermal would give him a high-five for luck and he didn’t know how much could be contributed to the angel and how much to coincidence, but life did seem to be going like clockwork these days. Teresa not only attended a meeting, but her granddaughter was unexpectedly brought to visit after months of refusal from her son. She was over the moon and still talking about it when Fabrizio next visited. Rafael got a job, a mere two weeks after Fabrizio had spoken to him. It was menial work, but remarkably well-paid. He couldn’t quite believe his good fortune either. On a more personal level, Fabrizio’s bus hadn’t been late for weeks and he was making it into work five or even ten minutes early on a daily basis.

His health was also going well. He attended another physiotherapy appointment, but then backed off. The appointments took too long, sometimes nearly two hours, and he didn’t have time for that now that he was working again. Group sessions on Saturdays were suggested as an alternative. He went to one and spent an hour listening, aghast, as one of his fellow patients shrieked and moaned as if under torture, making sure to inform the whole group of her life story in between. That had confirmed to him that he was not unwell enough to belong here. Hydrotherapy was the next idea and Ermal had been quite enthusiastic about it. Fabrizio had been less so. The idea of bouncing up and down in a public pool, looking like an idiot, did not appeal. Instead pills had been offered to fill the gap until his next injection. They were essentially glorified painkillers, but that was really all he needed. The ability to walk properly was within him, and all he needed was something to ease the strain of actually doing it.

In truth, the pills were no less evil. They were so strong that he had to start taking other pills to prevent an upset stomach, and he hated putting chemicals into his body. The fear of becoming addicted was never far away. Ermal held a different attitude. In his mind, medicines were invented for a reason and were the first line of defence against any ailment. He nagged Fabrizio about them as much as any mother, eyes sharp for any stumble or hesitation, at which point he would pounce.

“Did you take your pills today?”

When the answer was no, he would sigh and roll his eyes, and Fabrizio would feel like a naughty child.

“Do you need me to take responsibility for your medicine?” the angel would ask.

“I’m going to take them now” Fabrizio would reply, and Ermal would then follow him and watch as he did so. It was an argument that repeated itself endlessly, a tug-of-war between Fabrizio’s preference to use the pills as a treatment and Ermal’s preference to use them as a preventative measure, with neither of them willing to soften their stance.

The nightmares continued for six more weeks. Ermal tried to wean him off needing angelic intervention in his sleep schedule, with the result that Fabrizio didn't sleep through the night for a full week. He would feel the stomach-plunging terror of being seconds away from death and scramble awake, visceral pain and fear clinging to him, feeling like he’d barely escaped a dark force that was within seconds of killing him outright. He often ended up locking himself in the bathroom, the one place that Ermal wouldn’t follow him, and crying in front of the mirror. His fear of going back to sleep was so great that sometimes he wouldn’t even let the angel replace his dreams.

On one particularly bad night, he had seen the blonde girl. She was only metres away from him, face hidden by her hair as she hunched over a bleeding wound. He called to her, but she didn’t respond. He couldn’t move to help her. The nightmare had followed him into the waking world, leaving him unsure of what was real. He’d stumbled around the flat looking for her, shaking Ermal and telling him to get up and help. It had taken several minutes before he woke up properly, and was surprised to find himself in the living room, with no-one who needed his help. Ermal had taken control of his dreams again after that. On the first night that he was able to sleep without dreaming of anything, good or bad, Ermal turned off his alarm to let him take advantage of the undisturbed slumber and it was 11am before Fabrizio woke up. He couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or grateful.

His last panic attack came two weeks after that. He loathed them in particular because, unlike the nightmares which could be papered over, there was almost nothing that could be done to stop them. The romantic comedies that had started as a joke became the only films he could watch. The gut-churning suspense of thrillers, the blood and screaming of horrors, and the large number of big things exploding loudly in action-adventure movies stole his breath and caused his heart to start thumping so fast that he was afraid he would go into cardiac arrest, which did nothing to quell his panic. At night, as happened often in a large city, he would hear loud yelling and screams from somewhere in the distance and would sit to attention, his logical side figuring that they were drunken teenagers on their way home from a night out, but his emotional side hearing only the sounds of someone being murdered.

The last panic attack was the result of a wedding. Someone had decided that the communal garden would be an excellent place to hold the reception, and they had really gone all out on the entertainment, hiring a rock band followed by a comedian. Fabrizio and Ermal had settled themselves on the steps outside the side door, enjoying the music and the jokes with some drinks. Fabrizio had gone inside to refill their glasses when he heard the first bang and tensed up, followed by another and another and another.

His heartbeat immediately went into overdrive and his skin prickled with adrenaline, the fight or flight response kicking in. He fell into a sitting position against the wall, a smaller target, a less easily seen target, and jerked his head around in search of the danger. A terrible weight pressed on his lungs and he could hardly breathe, and when he opened his mouth to call for Ermal who was so close by, his mouth only made an awful creaky noise. He began to sob with terror, realising that he was about to die and there was no-one who could help him. And then, he didn’t know how, some spark of a thought managed to make itself known through the paralysing terror. With more force than elegance, he flung his arm out and slammed the back of his hand against the cupboard handle.

Ermal was there in a second. “Bizi…Oh!” He knelt down and held Fabrizio’s arms. “Breathe. You’re okay. In through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s good. They’re just fireworks, Bizio, they’re not going to hurt you. You’re okay, you’re safe. Keep breathing.”

Fabrizio inhaled and exhaled wheezily, squeezing his eyes shut as yet more explosions erupted around him. “Just keep breathing, okay?” Ermal said. “I’m going to be five minutes.”

“No.” Fabrizio’s voice sounded like a dying old man. He tried to reach out, but he couldn’t grip properly.

“One minute.”

Ermal pulled away and for thirty awful seconds, Fabrizio watched the world around him take on an unreal aspect, as if he had fallen into a painting and was the only real thing in an imaginary world. He had a terrible pain in his stomach and he knew that this was his death. It felt like he blacked out for only a second, but Ermal was beside him when he woke and the first thing he heard was the angel calling his name.

“I think I’m okay now” he insisted, trying to stand up, and then fell down again. Ermal handed him some water and he drank greedily, grateful to feel himself being grounded in reality again. He handed the bottle back and promptly burst into tears. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“It’s stopped,” Ermal put an arm around his shoulders. “I told them to stop the fireworks.”

“I can’t avoid fireworks for my whole life.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought they were an essential part of everyday life, but what do I know?” Ermal smiled and nudged him slightly, evidently trying to cheer him up. “Anyway, it won’t be for your whole life. Nothing is ever permanent. Time heals everything.”

“Yeah, that’s what my father says,” Fabrizio sighed. “I know it’s true, but the problem with time healing things is that it takes longer. So, effective as it is, it’s not much use to someone in a hurry.”

Ermal gave a slight giggle and moved his hand down Fabrizio’s arm, rubbing the sun tattoo comfortingly. Out of nowhere, he leaned in and kissed Fabrizio’s cheek, earning a startled look. “Maybe that will help” he suggested, shrugging.

Maybe it did.

They were approaching the halfway point of summer and the mercury was climbing steadily. It wasn’t yet at the hellish heights it would reach in August, but 29 degrees was now regarded as a mild day. Ermal wasn’t wilting under the sun like most of Rome. He happily walked around in long-sleeved jackets even as his curls started to lose their bounce, and while Fabrizio had half his buttons undone to let the air at his skin, Ermal’s only acknowledgement of the weather was “it’s nicely warm.”

The temperature had fallen unusually low for the time of year today, down to 26 degrees, a perfect opportunity for Fabrizio to walk his angel. They meandered down the street, going in no particularly direction, simply enjoying the day and the company until Fabrizio asked to stop on a bench under a shaded tree. They sat there for a few minutes, watching the cars go by, until there was a metallic screech and a loud roar behind them, like a bull preparing to charge. Both of them turned. Two cars had stopped in the middle of the street and two men, one out of his car and one inside, were having an aggressive discussion about some rule of the road.

Fabrizio felt Ermal’s hand grab onto his. “Are you okay?” he asked. He nodded. The initial surprise had dissipated and left behind…nothing. No panic, maybe a momentary speeding-up of his heart rate, but he hadn’t missed a breath and his muscles were already relaxing. “I think I’m getting over it,” he said cautiously. “At least I think I’m starting to get over it.”

**

Emboldened by that sign of progress, two days later, Fabrizio decided to make a detour on his way home from work and visit the supermarket. When he arrived home, he found Ermal already in front of the microwave. “There’s no need for that,” he said before the angel could go any further. “I’ll cook dinner tonight.”

“That’s very nice of you, but I can do it.”

“No, no, I mean I’m actually going to cook a real dinner for us. I bought fresh ingredients and I’ll make some pasta from scratch.”

“Oh…” A faraway look came into Ermal’s eyes. “Pasta…”

“It’s no big deal. Do you want to watch?”

Ermal circled him while he unpacked the groceries. “What’s that?” He poked the cellophane bag of fresh basil leaves, looking suspicious.

“That’s basil.”

“And what does that do?”

“It’s a herb.”

Ermal put his finger into the bag and picked out a leaf, putting it on his tongue. “It doesn’t taste of anything” he reported.

“It’s only for decoration.”

“What’s the point of it if it doesn’t taste of anything?”

“It makes the food look nice.”

Ermal grimaced dubiously. Fabrizio shook his head at him. “I need something to chop it with” he said.

“In the past I’ve found that a knife works quite well” Ermal suggested, opening the drawer and offering a steak knife.

Fabrizio smiled and replaced the steak knife with a santoku. He started to chop the basil. Ermal watched him, looking fascinated. “What are you making now?”

“A sauce to go with the pasta. It’s called pesto.”

“And what’s in that?”

“Basil, olive oil, pine kernals, Parmesan cheese and garlic. Come here, watch me. First of all, I chop the basil very finely, then I add the olive oil. Then I crush the pine kernals from the bag here. Finally I add the crushed garlic and the Parmesan cheese. Simple!”

Ermal watched the preparations in silence. “It’s green” he remarked finally.

“Yes, it’s green. Sauce can be green, you know,” Fabrizio replied patiently. “Right, for my next trick, I will, without the aid of a safety net, grate the Parmesan cheese…”

*

“I didn’t know you liked cooking” Ermal said later, picking off the last pieces of Parmesan.

“I haven’t done it for a while,” Fabrizio admitted. “I guess I’ve rediscovered the love of it.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good when that happens, isn’t it? Does that mean you want to be the chef from now on?”

“I think so. You don’t mind, do you? I know I eat late…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ermal waved the concern away. “You know food is optional for me. Anyway, I don’t like cooking. I only did it because most people don’t want to do chores if they have a servant to do it for them.”

Fabrizio rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it. “You’re not a servant,” he said. “I know I haven’t been pulling my weight on the housework front and I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you like it?” He tried and failed to keep the hope out of his voice. 

“The food? Yeah, it was good. Once you get past the green sauce” Ermal added, smiling impishly. Fabrizio scoffed and waved a fork at him. “You need to expand your palate, that’s your problem.”

“Bizio, I can eat anything,” he said proudly. “I’ve had people tell me that I don’t have taste buds, so if you cook something that I don’t like, it’s really a reflection on you.”

“You…” Fabrizio stood up and collected the plates. “You are so annoying.”

Ermal burst out laughing. He had a wicked, dry cackle for a laugh and it was utterly infectious. “I know you love me. Stop pretending you don’t.”

“I wish I loved you. It’d make life much easier.” He headed towards the kitchen, grinning. Over the sound of the tap, he thought he heard Ermal’s voice, and turned it off. “What did you say?”

“Are you doing anything on Saturday?”

“Why, are you asking me on a date?” He wished he hadn’t said that. There was a line in their teasing and he worried that he might have crossed it. He waited for a couple of seconds and heard no reply. Panic began to set in. “No, I’m free on Saturday. Is there something you want to do?” He hoped moving on swiftly would prevent any potential awkwardness.

“No,” came the response from the living room. “I was just curious.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise: a feeling of mild astonishment or shock caused by something unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) This is good timing since I get to celebrate surpassing 1,000 reads with a chapter I've looked forward to sharing. Thank you very much to everyone who is still reading. I hope you enjoy, and leave a comment if you do <3

“Fabrizio…Bizio? Wake up.”

Fabrizio turned his head from where it was buried in the pillow and found the room empty. Was that a dream? No, apparently not, as he heard a very real thump on the bedroom door.

“I can’t open the door, Bizio.”

He rubbed his eye, smiling at the petulant tone, and got up. The sight that greeted him was unexpected, to say the least. “Surprise!” Ermal declared. He was holding a dull silver tray with several plain white china dishes, and even cutlery and napkins. Fabrizio stared at it, initially uncomprehending, and then felt his face split into a grin.

“No way!”

Ermal nodded delightedly. “Breakfast! Surprise breakfast!” He started to come forward and Fabrizio swiftly moved back to let him in. He headed over to the bed and dumped the tray down with slightly more force than Fabrizio wanted. “Sorry, it’s heavy.”

“Look at this!” Fabrizio somehow managed to climb onto the bed without overturning the tray and surveyed the spread, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “What a treat.”

“It’s a surprise breakfast,” Ermal said again, emphasising ‘surprise’. “I didn’t make it. I got it from a catering company.”

“Wow.” Fabrizio’s eyes ranged over the dishes and landed on a glass of pink juice. “What’s this?”

“Pomegranate juice,” Ermal said, sounding very pleased with himself. “It’s a new fashion apparently. I was going to get orange juice, but the new stuff looked interesting.”

Fabrizio took a sip and felt his taste buds shrivelling. That was tart! “Great…” he choked. “Very…um…refreshing.”

“Refreshing in a good way?”

Fabrizio handed the glass to him and Ermal sipped at it. His mouth puckered. “It’s an acquired taste” he said optimistically.

Fabrizio chose not to remark on that. “So what is all this?” He peered at the white dishes. “Is there a theme?”

“It’s a fusion breakfast,” Ermal said proudly. “International. I chose all the dishes myself. Some European, some American, some Asian…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a receipt. “You’ve got marinated fish, a German meat speciality dish…”

“Is this coffee?” Fabrizio reached for the cup, drawn by the familiar colour. Ermal laughed. “No! Coffee wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? This is artichoke and dandelion tea. It’s South American.”

Fabrizio took his hand away from the cup and instead picked up a spoon. “So this…” He prodded a porridge-type substance, already rapidly losing hope. “This isn’t muesli, is it?”

“No,” Ermal consulted the list. “It’s congee, Chinese rice porridge.”

Fabrizio stared down at the bowl. It looked like dishwater mixed with sour milk, and the gelatinous-looking egg on top turned his stomach.

“It…” He turned towards Ermal’s voice, noting that the angel was eyeing the tray with a lot more doubt than before. “I mean, I suppose it doesn’t look as…appealing as I expected. I didn’t mean to order so many bowls of gloopy stuff. There should be an algorithm on the website. Did you mean to order this much gloopy stuff?”

Fabrizio couldn’t help smiling. “But,” Ermal added quickly. “Apparently the Chinese eat it every morning. A billion people can’t be wrong, can they?”

“Okay,” Fabrizio said slowly, turning to another dish. There had to be something here that he could eat. Ermal had put so much effort into this. He didn’t want to disappoint the other man. “And this?”

“I think it might be the Indian lentil broth,” Ermal glanced at the menu again. “Unless it’s the cheese grits. I think I might email them about that gloopy stuff algorithm.”

“How much did you order?”

“A lot,” he admitted. “I thought if I ordered all kinds of things, there’d be something good. You haven’t eaten anything yet.” He tried to smile, and it was so nervous and hopeful that Fabrizio’s heart ached. He wondered if he would take poison if refusing could hurt someone’s feelings. The answer was probably yes.

“I know, it’s just…There’s so much. It’s so difficult to know where to start” he said, playing for time. Ermal immediately grabbed a spherical dumpling-like object and handed it to him. “This is an idli. It’s Indian, made from fermented batter.”

“Right.” Fabrizio looked at the idli and put it down. “Wow. This is really…”

“It’s different, right?” Ermal interrupted eagerly. “Not what you were expecting.”

“Very much not what I was expecting.”

“So…” Ermal spread his arms wide. “Tuck in. It’s all yours.”

“I will! I will!” He looked around frantically. “It all looks so…What’s this one?” He prodded a dish which on first glance looked like bread, but upon closer inspection revealed itself to be slabs of meat.

“Leberkäse,” Ermal read from the menu. “It means ‘liver cheese’.”

Fabrizio gulped audibly and Ermal gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m sorry for saying ‘liver cheese’ out loud.”

How did he do that? Every time Fabrizio was on the point of speaking his mind and saying that this breakfast seemed inedible, and furthermore an atrocious waste of money, Ermal would come out with a remark that softened him and renewed his desperation to make this work.

“Look,” Ermal passed a dish containing bread topped with what looked like mayonnaise. “Bread is safe. Why not start with that? This is rye bread with sour cream, from Scandinavia.”

Fabrizio obediently loaded up his fork, noting that Ermal was watching expectantly as he took a mouthful.

“Oh my God!” He clapped a hand to his mouth, which was filled with an awful decaying, putrefying taste. He retched and Ermal grabbed a napkin. “I’m going to…”

“Here, just spit it out!”

“I’m sorry, Ermal.” He mopped his mouth and felt a shudder go through him at the aftertaste. “I just couldn’t. What the hell was that?”

“Um…That might be the marinated fish.”

“Fish?”

“Have some liver cheese to take away the taste.” Ermal desperately pushed the plate towards him. Fabrizio felt like he might retch again. He looked wildly around the tray. “Maybe in a minute. Is there anything…you know, normal?”

“Er…I’m sure I ordered strawberries.” Ermal looked at the menu again. “Where are they?” His eyes flicked from side to side and then stopped. His whole expression changed.

“What is it?” Fabrizio asked, lifting a hand to his forehead and feeling a bead of sweat. Ermal swallowed before answering. “The strawberry platter wasn’t available so they gave me…” He pointed to a dish surrounded by garish yellow eggs, in the middle of which was what appeared to be regurgitated dog food decorated with a sprig of green.

“I should have bought croissants!”

Fabrizio looked up to see the door slam, and he swiftly got to his feet and ran after the angel. He found Ermal in the living room, staring out of the window with his arms wrapped around his body.

“I should have made pancakes,” he said miserably. “I didn’t want you to just eat a sandwich because…” He broke off and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Fabrizio couldn’t stop himself from crossing the room and pulling the angel into a hug, nor did he want to try.

“It was a lovely thought” he insisted.

“It was a horrible breakfast! I’m sorry, don’t eat it.”

“It’s not horrible” Fabrizio said at once.

“It is. The whole thing is foul. It’s gloopy and weird.”

“It’s just…” Fabrizio paused to choose a word. “Challenging, if you’re not used to it.”

Ermal pulled away from him and sighed. “Will I make some coffee?”

“I would love some coffee.” It seemed like the most natural action in the world to reach out and touch his face, or stroke his hair, anything to take that sadness away. Fabrizio’s arm had already started to move when he remembered himself and stopped. “And thank you. Really.”

He went back to the bedroom, surveyed the tray once more and, in the spirit of discovery, he picked up the idli and nibbled it. Actually, that wasn’t bad. He’d be inclined even to call it good. Emboldened, he took a sip of the artichoke tea and winced. Whereas that was vile.

It took five minutes for Ermal to return with some coffee and two slices of toast, by which time the silver tray had been discreetly placed in the far corner of the room, where no-one had to look at it.

“Coffee!” Fabrizio exclaimed delightedly. “And toast too!”

“Surprise!” Ermal said again, sitting down beside him as he began to eat. “And that’s not the only one.”

“Another surprise?” Fabrizio queried warily.

Ermal giggled and pecked his cheek. “I have a plan for today.”

“I’m very tired. I’m staying in bed.”

Ermal gave a discontented hum and jumped off the bed, roughly enough to shake the mattress. “How can you be tired? You were in bed by eleven” he demanded.

Fabrizio shrugged and Ermal smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Old man,” he said, sounding almost affectionate. “Now come on. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Where are we going?” Fabrizio asked, muffling a yawn. Ermal simply smirked enigmatically.

“That’s the surprise.”

**

“Where are we going?” Fabrizio asked again.

“Repeatedly asking will not get you a different answer. Next exit, please” Ermal replied, consulting the directions on his knee.

Fabrizio shook his head and took the exit as instructed. Ermal directed him until they reached a roundabout directly outside a large leisure complex. The building was the only thing in this area, so this had to be their destination.

“Are we going to the gym?” Fabrizio asked, driving into the car park. Ermal shrugged. “Maybe” he said.

“Well, you must have some idea of what we’re doing. Is it swimming?”

The idea suddenly came to him, remembering how much the angel had enjoyed playing around in the pool during the short-lived hydrotherapy, and how disappointed he had been when they quit. It would be just like Ermal to ambush him. He went to the back of the car to check whether the angel had smuggled a swimming costume in.

“Well…It’s something to do with water.” Ermal had his hands clasped behind his back, swaying from side to side and grinning. He looked adorable, but that didn’t stop Fabrizio from feeling less nervous. Neither did the angel’s next comment. “Would you mind closing your eyes? I’ll guide you.”

“Are we going swimming, Ermal?” he asked again, nevertheless closing his eyes without waiting for an answer. Two warm hands pressed over his eyelids. “No peeking,” Ermal said cheerfully. “Okay, now walk. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

Fabrizio was sure that there must be no greater fool than him. He started to move cautiously across the ground, taking tiny steps. “Keep going, keep going, keep going, stop!” Ermal halted him sharply. He heard the sound of a car driving past.

“Is it really necessary to do this now?”

“We’re nearly there. Keep going, keep going, stop, lift your leg, there we are. Turn left, keep going…Oops, sorry, they really need to pave that properly. Stop, turn right.” Ermal let go of him and Fabrizio blinked, seeing a glass door in front of him. Ermal pulled it open and he caught a glimpse of dark red carpet before the angel’s hands covered his eyes again. “Forward! Now left.”

Once again he was released in front of a door, an opaque blue one now. Ermal pulled it open and a blast of cold air hit Fabrizio in the face. He saw a black floor, clear plastic partitions ahead of him, people in coats and hats moving quickly…

“Ta-da!” Ermal declared, spreading his hands. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the best I can offer considering the season.”

Fabrizio stared in disbelief. They were at an ice rink, one that was more typically used for ice hockey matches, but was now open to the public. The place was crowded with both skaters and spectators. The floor was shining with water from all the skates that had crossed it, although it couldn’t be called wet due to the grooves in its surface. He suddenly felt panicked.

“Ermal, I can’t skate.”

“Your trophies beg to differ.”

“Did you see the years on those trophies?” he demanded. “I’m far too out of practice and far too old to even attempt it.”

“How do you know? Haven’t you ever taken your kids skating?”

“That’s a low blow. Of course I have. The last time, Anita fell and took me down with her. I nearly broke my leg.”

“That was Anita’s fault, not yours. See how good you are without a tiny hand to hold onto.”

Fabrizio shook his head vehemently. Ermal was absolutely correct to say that he wasn’t used to this. There were so many people here! He couldn’t go out in front of them all, clinging to the sides, legs flying as he attempted to keep his balance. He had a flashback to the humiliation of taking Anita skating, how he’d fallen three times and found himself unable to get back up. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He was old and nervous and stiff, and that day had made him realise that the ice was no longer his friend.

“You know…” Ermal said, loudly enough to stop Fabrizio in his tracks as he turned to go. “An old client gave me a very good piece of advice. If you love and lose something, you should pour water on those feelings, not acid. Water dulls the feelings, but it leaves them perfectly preserved and ready to be regenerated if the opportunity presents itself. Acid corrodes them and twists them into something bitter.”

He took Fabrizio’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. “I’m not asking you to do any crazy spins or tricks,” he said. “I can see how much you used to love the ice. I just want you to see whether it’s a love that can be revived.”

“What if I fall? What if I take people down with me and make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t,” Ermal said. “If you really don’t want to, we can go, but why not give it a try since we’re here?”

“Are you coming?” Fabrizio asked. It wouldn’t be so frightening if he had someone beside him.

“Me?” Ermal scoffed. “No. I need one of those plastic penguins to even consider it. Go on, have fun.”

Fabrizio stared at the ice, all kinds of thoughts flashing through his brain. The music was thudding and the lights were twinkling and Ermal was encouraging him to skate. It was an irresistible combination.

“Sure,” he said at last. “I’ll have a go.”

The first few laps were like taking out an old musical instrument, tuning it up, playing the notes slowly, alert for defects and flaws. His body was older than it was, but it was still strong. He still had muscle memory. As he cut across the white surface, he thought longingly of his old skates, hanging up in a back room at his parents’ house. Still, it didn’t matter that it was a crowded public rink, that the skates were strange and the ice was already getting wet from people falling over on it. He loved this.

He whizzed past Ermal, turned around and saw the other man gaping at him as he skated backwards. He turned again, made sure he had enough space, and lifted a leg in an arabesque. He was too stiff to lift it straight up as he had once been able to do, so his leg was bent at the knee and looked far less impressive than it should, but he was delighted that he was still capable of making any attempt. His poor leg was screaming in protest.  
‘We don’t do this anymore’ it cried.  
‘Do this for me and we’ll have a hot bath later’ he urged.

He headed into the centre of the ice and did a simple spin, then a faster and flashier spin, ignoring the tremble that began halfway through.  
‘Come on, legs, you can do it.’  
He glanced at Ermal. He was staring with such open-mouthed astonishment that Fabrizio couldn’t help laughing. He felt so light out here; he felt so happy…And suddenly it hit him. He was performing, because there was someone he wanted to perform to.

All the other skaters had moved to the side of the rink, giving him space, nudging each other and applauding. He was aware of the staff conferring and pointing in a group and knew they would come and throw him off at any moment. He had no plans to hog the ice. That would be obnoxious…but now there was enough room to spread his wings. To jump. To do a big jump.

‘Dancing Queen’ was playing through the speakers and it wasn’t the music he did his programme to, but even so, he found himself falling into its familiar patterns. He must have practiced the intricate footwork sequence a thousand times, and now his feet were performing it without his brain even switching on. And then he was out of that sequence and building momentum for the jump. He swept in more powerful circles, focusing his mind, remembering the calm voice of his coach.

His thighs were burning and his heart was thudding as he prepared. This was crazy! He was going to break his ankle, his neck…

He took off.

As he rotated in the air, he felt a moment of sheer terror. He could hear the silence, feel the drawn-in breaths. He caught a glimpse of the staff, all turned to watch. And then, like a miracle, his skate landed cleanly and the whole place erupted in applause.

Fabrizio’s leg was shaking horrendously, his ankle felt like putty and every muscle in his body was protesting…but he’d done it. He’d nailed it, only thirty years late. Everyone was still clapping and cheering, and he had never felt like such a show-off in his life.

It felt amazing.

He made a little bow to the crowd and skated off, unable to wipe the ecstatic smile from his face, replying “Thank you” again and again as people said “Well done.” As he reached the gate to leave, he saw Ermal clinging to the barrier, grinning. Fabrizio met his eye and they both started giggling, and then a twinge in his thigh made him wince.

“I’ll pay for this in the morning” he said. “I’ll find crutches for you” Ermal replied. Fabrizio stuck his tongue out and received the same childish gesture in response.

Ermal was still sitting on the bench when he returned, after handing back his skates and gratefully slipping his feet into comfortable boots. Just like holidays caused you to appreciate your own bed, he thought, skating certainly helped you to appreciate your own shoes. Ermal smiled at him when he sat down.

“Well, that was better than I was expecting” he said.

“That wasn’t you, was it?” Fabrizio asked breathlessly. “You didn’t use some angel power to…”

Ermal shook his head before he’d even finished. “That’s not how angel power works. That was all you.”

Fabrizio burst into almost delirious laughter. It must be a result of the adrenalin or the surreal glow of long-awaited victory that made him want to reach over and hug Ermal tight. “I can’t believe I did that! Oh, at my age…I’m so happy!”

“I’m glad for you, Bizio.”

Fabrizio smiled at him. He liked that name more every time he heard it. It was something about Ermal’s accent, pitching up the first syllable and drawing out the last, which made it sound so soft and lovely. It wouldn’t sound as nice if anyone else said it.

“You look lovely when you smile” Ermal said unexpectedly. Fabrizio blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting and leaving him lost for a response. Ermal seemed quite alarmed by his own words too. “I didn’t say that” he added quickly, looking down.

“So do you.”

Ermal lifted his head and slowly smiled. They looked into each other’s eyes for slightly too long to be appropriate. Fabrizio felt his body temperature rise suddenly and the sounds of the ice rink seemed to fade away. Ermal’s smile was starting to disappear, he noted. He looked serious, too serious.

“And I’ve decided you are capable of sincerity after all” he blurted out.

Ermal cackled loudly and the weird tension was broken in an instant. “Thank you!” he declared dramatically, stood up, and then bent down to put the lightest butterfly kiss on Fabrizio’s cheek. “Come on, let’s get lunch.”

He walked away jauntily. Fabrizio stayed on the bench for a moment longer, waiting for his head to stop spinning before he attempted to stand up. He was a man in his mid-forties and big aerial rotations were beyond him now, he thought. That was surely the only reason why he felt dizzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make chapters :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The noisy neighbour returns...and departs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy <3

The crowd looked like red seaweed ahead of him, waving gently in the breeze. There were a lot of them today, far more family members than could be accounted for by all the boys on the team. Something else was strange. The pitch looked larger and greener than usual, and much further away. Why couldn't he see properly? He looked down for the line that normally went around the boundary of the pitch, and realised that he was sitting rather than standing. He looked up and saw the grey stadium roof above him, and when he looked around, he was surrounded by people on every side. Those closest to him were wearing blue like him, the colour of Libero's team, but there were too many. Where was he? He was supposed to be on the side of a playing field on the outskirts of Rome, not in a stadium with vendors selling food and programmes. How had he ended up here? He needed to go. Libero would be so disappointed if he wasn't there.

He started to get up, just as the stadium burst into loud cheers and the players took the field. Most of them were shapeless, skin-coloured blobs, but he recognised one even from 40 metres away. Libero was there, wearing his blue shirt with the white school badge, alongside his teammates on the pitch of an enormous stadium. Fabrizio sat down quickly, heart swelling with pride. This was his son's greatest dream and it was actually happening, and he was here to witness it. He needed to get a photo of this.

He fumbled for his camera, as the floodlights on the pitch began to move over the crowd, more like strobe lighting at a concert. One hit him in the face and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for it to move on. It didn't. It continued to shine directly into his eyes, blinding him.

Wait, where were the other team? Who were they supposed to be playing?

He twisted away from the light and knocked into the man sitting next to him, his head sinking into his neighbour's shoulder.

Why was Libero wearing his old school shirt? He didn't go there anymore. What did his new school shirt even look like?

Finally he jolted awake, feeling bereft at the realisation that it had been a dream, and noticed that his room wasn't as dark as it should be. The window was entirely illuminated as if a spaceship had landed in the garden, and as Fabrizio stared at it in bemusement, the light moved. Oh God, that was a torch! Someone was outside the fucking window with a torch! He threw the covers over his head, operating under the tried-and-tested method of 'You can't see me if I can't see you.'

There was a knock at the window and he put a hand over his mouth to quell a scream of terror. A hard bang came at the side door, and the light at the window hadn't moved, which meant there were two of them. His side door was a useless piece of crap. A few good kicks would break it, and what would happen then? Even though this area wasn't the safest part of the city, it wasn't the worst either and he'd never considered becoming a victim of crime. He had so little. What could they possibly want to rob him of? What if they killed him? He didn't want to die. His heart was beating rapidly, threatening to break free of his ribs, and his chest tightened with the onset of a panic attack. Having his head covered with a thick duvet didn't make it any easier to breathe.

The bedroom door opened. Silent tears began to scroll down his face. Please go away, please don't hurt me, please...

“You can come out” Ermal said.

Oh, thank God! Thank God, thank God, thank God!

Fabrizio struggled out from the cushioned maze. The room was dark now, except for Ermal gently glowing. “Are they gone?”

“Not yet, but they will be. They're looking for your upstairs neighbour.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I spend a lot of time in this house when you're not here. I hear them all the time, going up and down.”

“Who?”

“The immigrants.” Seeing Fabrizio’s confusion, Ermal elaborated. “They're the ones who live there. The owner hardly ever visits. He's just providing them with a place to squat.”

“And you never thought to tell me?”

“I assumed you knew. It's pretty clear that something weird was happening up there. Don't you hear them walking about at ungodly hours? They sound like a herd of wildebeest.”

“I would never...” Fabrizio began, and then another thought came to mind. “Have they tried to break in before?”

Ermal glanced at a random piece of wall, shrugging and swinging his arms like a child caught on a lie. “That’s why I stopped coming to work with you.”

“For God's sake,” Fabrizio muttered. “Thank you.”

Ermal nodded. “You should still carry your passport around with you from now on. Identity documents are as valuable as money, and I don't believe that they'd investigate a ground floor flat by accident when they should know their squat is on an upper level.”

He came over and sat on the bed, putting an arm around Fabrizio’s shoulders. It was a gesture that was no doubt meant to calm and relax, but instead it made him suddenly very alert. “Go back to sleep. I'll sort it out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I'll call the police.” For the first time, his bland and reassuring tone cracked, and something much harder became audible. It sounded almost like anger. “I was willing to let it lie as long as they minded their own business, but now they've scared you and my job description says I have to do something about that.”

**

A loud thump woke him with a start. When he sat up, the only light in the room was courtesy of the sun, and the bedroom door was open. He sat up and grimaced as his back informed him of the awkward position he'd dozed off in last night. There was another thump at the door and he saw Ermal going towards it.

“What's going on?”

The angel turned and sighed. “They woke you? The police are here and I suspect your neighbour just found out why. Stay there and be quiet.”

Fabrizio sat up and listened as the door of the flat was opened. “Hey!” His neighbour’s voice yelled immediately, and then a surprised pause. “Who the hell are you?”

“Your neighbour's live-in support worker. I don't know if you remember that he's recovering from a severe injury, but...”

“Which one of you called the police?”

“Neither of us,” Ermal replied. “There are more than two flats in this building and your tenants have been causing problems for everyone. In fact, how do you know it was someone in the building? Do you think those people across the road are happy to have their house prices dragged down by a squat?”

Fabrizio wondered if everyone else could hear the faux-innocence in the angel’s voice as clearly as he could. The man upstairs was not the right person to antagonise with that act. There was another pause as, presumably, he tried to figure out if he was actually being mocked or if it was just his imagination. “Tell Fabrizio to keep his nose out of other people's business, and make sure you do the same” he said at last.

“Good day to you too.” The door closed and Ermal came into the bedroom. “What an asshole.”

Fabrizio nodded ruefully. “I made a complaint to the landlord about him once. He's had my number since then.”

Ermal moved his jaw unhappily. “We're going to write that down and start making a case for intimidation. If it's not safe for you to be here, you need to move.”

“I tried to. I applied to the housing executive and they promised me a house in Fiumicino, and then put it on the private market behind my back.”

“You couldn't afford it?”

“Way beyond my price range. It was a little far out of the city, but it would have been worth it to have my own place. Half of the development was meant to be public housing, but they decided they'd make more money from making the whole thing private.”

The angel folded his arms, glared at the wall, hummed. “Then if you can't move, he has to go.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening,” Fabrizio remarked, smiling slightly. “Can you do that? Is it within your angelic abilities to make someone disappear?”

Ermal frowned at him. “Who said anything about angelic abilities? I can certainly make someone disappear if I tell the police he’s trafficking illegal immigrants.”

**

Fabrizio hadn’t seen or heard his upstairs neighbour for three weeks. At first he thought that Ermal had told the police as he’d promised, and the neighbour had been arrested, but he soon discovered that wasn’t the case. Two officers had come to his door and asked if he knew anything about Vittorio Perin- he’d never even known the man’s name before then- and explained that they were looking for him, but he seemed to have abandoned his address. As soon as they were gone, Fabrizio had summoned his angel.

“I thought you were going to tell the police” he said. “I did, but I also told him” was the unrepentant reply.

“Why?”

“Because the point was to get him out of here,” Ermal replied. “The police aren’t going to charge him on the basis of one anonymous tip. They’ll arrest him and then let him come back here, and he’ll make trouble for you. If he knows they’re looking for him, he’ll go far away and never come back.”

Fabrizio had to take a moment to think over that statement. “I’m pretty sure that’s obstruction of justice.”

“I’m pretty sure that human justice has no bearing on how I do my job, which is to look after one person.”

The methods involved prevented Fabrizio from giving an outright thank-you, but he whispered it in the dark on that first silent night, and he wondered if Ermal had heard it.

Today he heard noise above his head again, heavy things scraping across the floor and footsteps, indicating that someone new was moving in. Ermal had done a little victory dance. His triumph had quickly soured as afternoon turned to evening, and the new resident revealed themselves to be a fan of music, or rather of one particular song.

They were ensconced in the living room as usual, Ermal reading a book and Fabrizio watching YouTube videos, squashed into one corner of the sofa. Why were they sitting like this? Fabrizio couldn’t have explained. He was here first and Ermal had decided that, of all the places on the mostly empty sofa where he could sit, the one he wanted was with his back pressed against Fabrizio’s ribs. He had to put his arm around the angel simply because there was nowhere else for it to go, but he wasn’t complaining, not at all.

“I suppose it was too much to hope for peace and quiet” Fabrizio remarked, as the track began for the twenty-eighth time. Ermal had started to whisper “key change” under his breath a second before the music moved up an octave, which Fabrizio found as irritating as the repetitive tune from upstairs.

“I wouldn’t care if they’d play another song. How can anybody stand to listen to the same music over and over again?” the angel asked.

“It’s their favourite, I suppose.”

“I used to like this song,” Ermal said mournfully. “At least I didn’t mind it. I don’t think I’ll be able to hear those opening bars again without breaking the radio.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Fabrizio casually ran a hand over the curls on the back of his head, realising a second too late what he was doing. Ermal flinched slightly, but then leaned his head into the touch, making a contented humming sound.

“Do you like that?”

“It’s okay.”

Cautiously, ready to pull back if necessary, Fabrizio continued to stroke his hair. Ermal closed his eyes and his face relaxed. He moved only to direct Fabrizio’s hand around his head, twice shivering when the hand got to close to the nape of his neck, and every so often made a hum of disapproval if he felt Fabrizio was slowing his ministrations.

“My arm hurts” the masseuse complained. “Change arms” his client retorted. Fabrizio grinned at him. “You’re like a little cat.”

“Meow.”

Fabrizio chuckled. If he’d been a braver person, he would have put a kiss in the other man’s hair, but he hesitated and let the moment pass. Ermal suddenly shook his head, tossing the curls like a shampoo model, to indicate that permission to touch had been rescinded. Fabrizio obediently removed his hand and let his arm fall across Ermal’s shoulders instead.

“We have to go shopping this weekend” he said.

“I know. We always get the food for the week on Saturdays.”

“No, we’re doing that on Sunday. On Saturday we’re going to the market to find the toy that my daughter wants for her birthday.”

He hadn’t appreciated how popular the Tubby Teddies were. Every child in Italy wanted them, and the shops didn’t have enough to keep up with demand. Online sellers were buying them in bulk and trying to resell them at ridiculous prices. At the end of the day, it was just a teddy with colourful fur, certainly not worth 80 euros. Fabrizio still hoped that Porto Portese would have a few at a decent price. It was possible to get almost anything there, if you visited on an auspicious day and were willing to spend some time browsing.

“These are the little bears that are sold out of all the shops?” 

Ermal had assisted him in his search. For two weekends in a row, they had split up in the centre of Rome to cover more ground, before reuniting with empty hands.

“Will you give me some luck before I go?” Fabrizio requested. The angel twisted around to look at him. “I will, but you should know that luck only increases the likelihood of something happening if the possibility is there. If there are no Tubby Teddies available, then a multiplication of zero is still zero.”

“Then let me find something else she’d like.”

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping with Ermal, Part 1, feat. a cameo from an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it only me or has this section gone by very fast? It's definitely shorter than the first one, but the end seems to have arrived more quickly than expected xD Oh well, anyway, this chapter concludes the 'friends' portion of our journey so I hope you all enjoy this last bit of calm before the storm ;)

Fabrizio's plan was to find the toy stand, pick up his daughter's bear, and leave quickly. Unfortunately that proved more difficult than expected with Ermal in tow.

“Bizio, look at this! Isn't it the ugliest thing you've ever seen in your life?” he called, pointing to a plastic torso that was emitting a soft yellow glow.

“Ermal, you don't have to yell” Fabrizio urged, shooting an apologetic look at the insulted stall owner.

“All of these lamps are my own design” the man declared irritably.

“Why did you decide to put a lamp inside a mannequin? It's horrifying. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and seeing that.”

“Alright,” Fabrizio grabbed his elbow and pulled him onwards. “That's enough now. Keep an eye out for anyone selling soft toys.”

Less than a minute later, Ermal escaped him again, running over to a stall selling jewellery. “What do you think of these rings? I like this one. Look, it’s got wings! How much is it?”

“Twelve euros” the woman answered, as Fabrizio stared in horror. “Ermal, we're here for Anita. We're not on a shopping spree.”

“It's only one ring and it's so nice,” Ermal pleaded, and Fabrizio wished that he didn't find it so adorable when Ermal looked at him with sad puppy eyes. “I've never seen anything like it. Look, we can still get something for Anita here. How much are these?”

He held up a pair of silver drop earrings with a blue gem embedded in each. “Four hundred” the woman said. Fabrizio baulked. Even Ermal looked unsure.

“Four hundred? Are they real sapphires?” he asked, half-joking.

“Synthetic sapphires. That's why the price is so good.”

Fabrizio removed the earrings from Ermal's hands and placed them back on the tray. “I will not be buying sapphires for my five year old, thank you.” He grabbed Ermal's wrist and pulled him away.

“I bet she would have liked them” the angel remarked impishly.

“Oh, she definitely would have liked them. Her mother would not have liked me, however.”

“Hey, Bizio, there's a vintage clothing stall. Do you want to look at that?”

He didn't, but Ermal was already dragging them in that direction and he had no choice but to follow. “Do you have any stuff for kids, little girls about five or six?” the angel asked.

The owner pointed them to the relevant rack and Ermal once more led the way. Fabrizio looked at their conjoined hands with amusement. “You can let go now, or are you afraid to lose me?”

Ermal glanced down, seemed surprised to find them still holding onto each other, and swiftly let go. He turned and started going through the clothes with efficient speed, coming up in about six seconds with a blue and white T-shirt and matching tennis skirt.

“This looks really cute. It's the right age for her” he suggested.

“Yes, but it's not made for a child who loves chocolate ice-cream. It's not safe to dress her in white.”

Ermal's shoulders slumped and he put the outfit away. Fabrizio looked around and finally saw what he was looking for, a stall devoted entirely to teddies and plush toys, right next door. Leaving Ermal to it, and trusting he would follow, he went over there.

“Excuse me, I'm looking for one of the Tubby Teddies for my daughter. Do you have a green one?”

“Sorry, they're all sold. We've got orange.”

“The green one is her favourite.”

“Yeah, it's everyone else's favourite too. There's always one that takes off.”

Fabrizio looked across the selection of bears on the shelf at the back of the stall. There were plentiful orange versions, one yellow and one pink. As far as choice went, it wasn’t extensive. “I’ll be back” he said politely, and took his phone from his pocket as he walked away.

“Hey” a man’s voice answered the call.

“Hi, can I speak to Giada, please?” he requested lightly. He had nothing against his children’s stepfather, but he’d never felt the need to speak to him. Both of them were adept at tolerating the other’s existence without acknowledging it.

“She’s making lunch, but I’ll get her.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

Giada was there in a second and he launched straight into business. “Giada, does Anita like any Tubby Teddies besides the green one?”

She laughed incredulously. “Did she ask you for that too? Giuseppe and I have been running around Milan like headless chickens looking for that bear. He asked all of his friends at work to keep an eye out, but no joy. I found second-hand sellers online, but they're all ridiculously expensive. I guess you haven't had much luck either.”

“There's a stall selling them at Porto Portese, but the green is all gone,” he explained. “I don’t know what the best colours are, but there’s orange, yellow and pink.”

A silence immediately followed which he didn’t like.

“Fabrizio…I’m sorry,” Giada said, sounding genuinely contrite. “I’ve already bought her a blue one. She likes that one too.”

There was a privilege to being the parent who saw her every day and knew every detail of her likes and dislikes, and Fabrizio tried not to be bitter about that. It had been his own choice after all. “Oh. It’s alright,” he said casually. “I can get her something else. Giada, while I'm speaking to you, do you mind if I bring a friend with me?”

“A friend? Claudio?”

“No, his name is Ermal. He's...my neighbour. He moved in while I was in hospital and he's been calling in on me, checking that I'm okay. I told him I was going to Milan for my daughter's birthday and he asked if we could use an extra pair of hands.”

“I see. And you trust him?”

“Completely.”

“I suppose if you trust him, I'll go along with it. Every pair of hands is welcome. Bring him to the house with you when you arrive.”

“Okay. Thanks, Giada. I’ll let you go. Tell them I love them.”

“I will.”

He turned to look for Ermal, finding the angel gone from the spot where Fabrizio left him. It wasn't difficult to relocate him even in the sprawling market. He was at a stall selling butterflies, berating the owner.

“You murder innocent creatures just so people can hang them on their wall! How can you sleep at night? How can you stand to look at them knowing that they're dead because of you?”

“I don't kill them.”

“You don't feel any guilt?”

“Alright, Ermal, let's go.” Fabrizio put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him along. “God will pay you back!” the angel yelled, before turning around and falling into step with Fabrizio.

“I hope you never meet a taxidermist” he remarked, grinning at the other man.

“Taxidermy is okay as long as the animal was dead to start with.”

Fabrizio opened his mouth to mention hunters who went looking for wolves and deer to mount their heads on walls, and then closed it again. “Would you like to come to Milan with me?” he asked instead.

Ermal looked at him curiously. “In what capacity? Do I stay in the hotel room or wander around while you're at the birthday or...?”

“Come to the birthday with me.” His hand was still on Ermal's shoulder and he squeezed it gently, hoping to encourage an affirmative answer.

“Really?” Ermal's face lit up and he quickly attempted to conceal his delight.

“I warn you, there'll be at least twenty little kids there. It'll be all babysitting.”

“I can do that” he said immediately.

“Great. Giada wants to meet you before we go to the party, but it shouldn't be a problem.”

“Of course, I would expect that. Oh, that means I have to get a present for Anita!”

“You don't have to...” Fabrizio began.

“No, I want to.” Ermal was already pulling away, picking up speed as he disappeared between the stalls. Fabrizio attempted to give chase, but Ermal was too fast, so he gave up and went looking for his replacement present. After browsing a few stalls, which were mostly selling sculptures that a little girl was unlikely to appreciate, he found himself back at the jewellery stall and looking over the wares with fresh eyes.

His attention was caught by a necklace with a long chain made of plastic beads, and a yellow dragonfly at the end. It reminded him of the pink butterfly necklace that Anita used to love. The owner informed him that it was a mere seven euros, but the clear plastic made it look like glass and he was sure that Anita would be delighted with it. He bought it and was about to return to the open piazza near the beginning of the market when he paused. Seven euros for a plastic necklace made twelve euros for a pewter ring seem quite reasonable, and Ermal had seemed to like it so much. The thought of being able to make two people he cared for smile was irresistible.

Ermal was waiting for him in the piazza, clutching a bag close to his chest. “What did you get?” Fabrizio asked.

“I got shoes, but I think she’ll like them. I really liked them anyway. What did you get?”

“I got her a necklace,” Fabrizio took the box out to show him. “And I got this too.” He handed the second box to Ermal and waited. The angel opened the longer box first and grinned. “That’s lovely. And you got her two things?”

The ring box was opened and his eyes seemed to dilate with shock. He looked questioningly at Fabrizio. “That’s for you” he confirmed.

“You bought it for me? Why?”

“You said you liked it.”

Ermal smiled and took one step forward, lifting his arms as if he was coming in for a hug.

“FABRIZIO!”

They both turned towards the voice and Fabrizio saw a young boy in an oversized black T-shirt breaking through the crowd, sprinting towards them. He skidded to a halt right next to Fabrizio, mere seconds away from colliding with him.

“Fabrizio, OH MY GOD!” he yelled, far too loudly considering that Fabrizio was right next to him. “It’s been ages.”

“Nico?” He had the same unreal feeling that one might have when meeting a celebrity. “Wow…How are you?”

“I’m good” the boy replied, grinning.

“What are you doing these days?”

“I’m at college.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! Who would have guessed it? I’m going to be a vet! Maybe. To be honest, I like the idea of specialising in big animals, and I don’t mean dogs and horses. I mean snakes and crocodiles! Wouldn’t it be cool to be one of those people who travel the world and film animals in their natural habitats? I could even write a book, a conservation book, ideas about how to save the lions and rhinos. But I probably have to be a vet first to do all of that, so I’m studying.”

Fabrizio was pretty sure that Niccolo hadn’t breathed in the past fifteen seconds. “Where are you living now?” he asked, feeling a bump in his shoulder as someone passed him, sending a scowl in his direction. He gestured for his companions to walk with him towards the exit.

“In a flat with three other guys,” Niccolo replied. “I love it. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I heard about you on the news.”

Fabrizio sucked in a deep breath, surprised yet again. Nobody ever talked about that anymore. It had long been forgotten and to have it brought up so suddenly made his heart skip a beat. “I’d rather not talk about that” he said.

“Okay,” Niccolo agreed easily. “I just want to say that it was a really cool thing you did. Not many people would have.”

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“Hi, I’m Niccolo.” The boy’s attention turned to the third person with them, and he reached across Fabrizio to shake his hand, nearly tripping him up.

“I’m Ermal. I work with Fabrizio now.”

“Cool. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Ermal said thoughtfully. Fabrizio glanced at him and wished he hadn’t, because Ermal was smiling at him. “Yeah, it’s better than I thought it was going to be.”

“You’re lucky to be working with him. He’s the best” Niccolo declared.

“Nico…” he sighed, embarrassed, which did nothing to end the torment. Niccolo simply returned his full attention to Fabrizio. “Do you still play guitar?” he asked. Fabrizio felt his cheeks turning red. He didn’t dare to look to his left. “No, I gave that up a while ago” he said casually.

“Why? You were good.”

After all this time, he still remembered how stubborn Niccolo was. Once he got the bit between his teeth, it was impossible to wrest it from him. “No time” he replied.

“Not even at the weekend?”

“Yeah, not even at the weekend?” Ermal echoed. “I know you’re busy, but…”

Fabrizio shot an annoyed look at him and got an infuriating smirk in response. Ermal’s eyebrows shot up and even if he didn’t know how, Fabrizio knew that this wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Well, listen,” Niccolo called his attention back and he was grateful to give it. “There’s a really great bar called La Nota Blu where I go on Saturdays. They have a big piano there. It’d be cool if you came to listen some time, if you wanted to.”

“You learned in the end?” he queried.

“Yeah, I did. I remember you saying that the worst part of quitting was how much time was left on your hands, so I made this list of things I wanted to do when I didn’t have an addiction anymore, and that was one of them. I’m going to cooking classes now.”

Fabrizio stopped walking, never minding the crowds of shoppers around him, and gazed at the boy. His hair was cut, his weight was healthy and he looked so energetic and happy. A lump came into his throat. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “To be honest, Fabrizio…I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

There was a moment when they just looked at each other, basking in their success, before the sentimentality became too much. “Okay, so practice your guitar this week so you can come to La Nota Blu and accompany me,” Niccolo ordered. “That’s your homework. You got it?”

“I got it.”

“It’s so brilliant to see you, Fabrizio.” He came forward and hugged him, tucking his head into Fabrizio’s chest like a little boy, which brought with it a powerful flash of memory. It seemed too soon when he moved back. “I have to go to class now, but have a good day.”

“You too, Nico.”

He watched the boy walk away with a bounce in his shoulders, and felt so many warm emotions in his chest that he thought he might cry.

“He seems nice.”

He had forgotten that Ermal was here. “I haven’t seen him for two years. I’m amazed he remembers me” he said.

“Why wouldn’t he? To him, you were the most important person in his life for a time. I’m more amazed that you remember him. To you, he was probably client number six that day.”

“No…” Fabrizio smiled and shook his head. “He was a twenty year old with a heroin addiction, and from the same neighbourhood that I grew up in. I saw myself every time I looked at him. He was so determined to get better. He did everything right, went to all the meetings and got through rehab, and that was when I stopped working with him. It’s sad that we only ever see people at their lowest. It’s great to see him doing well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nel blu dipinto di blu, felice di stare quaggiù

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) Thank you to everyone who has been reading. I'm always so happy to see people enjoying my story. This chapter comes with a song, Amara terra mia, which helped to set the mood while writing and might do the same when reading. I hope you enjoy.

“I'm going to use the shower now! Go if you need to!” Ermal called.

“I'm good” Fabrizio called back. A second later, he heard the bathroom door close. In all the time they’d lived together, there had never been a problem with the bathroom, and that was remarkable considering Ermal could stay in there for an hour and leave it like a sauna. Still he always gave fair warning and it was one of those small, insignificant gestures that made living with him so easy.

He looked at his watch and opened the laptop, clicking on the little green phone in the corner of his Skype screen, listening to the muffled ringtone as he waited to be connected. He both loved and hated that sound. Today, or rather yesterday, had been a very important day. Libero had turned ten years old and Fabrizio hadn’t been there. It had been agreed months ago that he couldn’t come up to Milan twice in such a short space of time, but guilt had still niggled at him all day. Ten was a significant birthday, perhaps not on par with 13 or 18 or 21, but not unimportant either. A gift had been sent in his place, the best material compensation that Fabrizio could give. It had been far easier to get Libero’s present than Anita’s. His son was so simple to buy for, any football related merchandise and he would be happy. Fabrizio had bought a Fifa video game from the second-hand store. He was quite proud of managing to find a completed game that would allow Libero to play however he wanted, rather than wasting hours grafting for achievements.

The little bubble sound popped as the phone symbol turned to a grainy screen, and there was Libero in the centre of the laptop. “Hi” he said.

“Hi little man, how was your birthday?”

“It was good. We went to a concert.”

Was it wrong to feel strangely proud when Libero expressed an interest in music? It felt like something they could share in the same way as football, albeit nothing could ever replace the beautiful game in his son’s affections. “Did you? Who was playing?” Fabrizio asked interestedly.

“Red Squirrel.”

Perhaps the apple fell a little further from the tree after all. Who on earth was Red Squirrel? Was it a band, a solo artist? What genre did he/she/they play? And who had chosen the name?

“Okay. I'm not too familiar with them” Fabrizio admitted, giving a light chuckle that meant ‘go easy on me.’

“He's a rapper. He did Gluten Intolerant Nation, remember?” Libero probed, as if this was (a song, an album, a tour, a movie?) something that everyone should be aware of.

“Absolutely.” Sounded awful if you asked him, but Libero didn't. “Did you get your present?” he asked, moving on swiftly.

“The game? Yeah, I did. It's the best present I got.”

“Don't let your mother hear that” Fabrizio chided jokingly, while glowing with delight on the inside.

“She bought the concert tickets, so she's in a different category from you. You both won your categories” Libero assured him.

“Well, that's good to hear.” He paused before forcing himself to open the can of worms. “I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

“It's okay,” Libero said at once. “You can't talk during a concert so there's no point. Are you definitely coming next month?”

“Definitely.”

Libero’s head lifted to look at something beyond the screen. A moment later, a bob of brown hair, two lovely eyes and a pair of nostrils suddenly appeared in the video, blocking out half of Libero's face.

“Hi Papa!”

He grinned. “Hello, my love.”

“I watched a movie today!”

“What movie?”

“Godzilla!”

“Aren't you a bit young for that?”

“No, I'm not!” Anita insisted. “We wanted to watch Godzilla” Libero said defensively. Fabrizio sympathised. It wasn't fair to make him watch Disney princesses on his birthday.

“Did you like it?”

Libero shrugged while Anita nodded vigorously. “It's got dinosaurs in it” she declared, as if this was all the explanation required. Fabrizio felt a rush of love for both of them and sorely wished that it was September already.

“Dad, why is your shower running?” Libero asked suddenly. For an instant, Fabrizio didn’t know what he was talking about, he was so caught up in his warm feelings. “Oh, that’s my friend.”

“What friend?” his son queried suspiciously.

“His name is Ermal.”

“Emma?” Anita queried, at the same time as Libero asked, “His? It’s a man?”

Fabrizio didn’t know who to answer first. “Yes, it’s a man and his name is Ermal” he said, emphasising the R sound.

“Mum said you were bringing a friend to Milan,” Libero remarked. “I thought it was a girlfriend.”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Good” his son replied, not even attempting to hide the warning in his voice. Fabrizio was reminded of the first time he’d tried to leave, the time that Libero had got so upset that he’d been guilt-tripped into staying, and his son screaming “Don’t marry anyone else” into a pillow. It broke his heart to see his son still so anxious about such things.

“Did you see the match?” Libero asked, moving the conversation on as if he’d said nothing of any importance. Anita sighed deeply and dramatically. “I’m going now” she declared, climbing off the bed.

“Bye, sweetheart…” She was already gone, the gentle clunk of a door indicating her departure. How self-assured she was, Fabrizio thought, taking others’ affection as her due and leaving them whenever she pleased in the knowledge that they would still be waiting for her when she deigned to give them attention again. She was unlike himself at that age, clinging desperately onto the few people he trusted and painfully shy with anyone else. He was so proud of her.

He turned his attention back to Libero. “Was this Juventus and Real Madrid? Yes, I did.”

“It was an awful match, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. They scored in the end” Fabrizio remarked.

“Yes, in the final ten seconds and that was brilliant, but my heart!” Libero pressed a palm against his chest and his father chuckled. “Mum told me off for yelling at the TV.”

“What kind of things were you yelling?”

Libero gave a shy smile and looked away. “They kept doing stupid moves like they were ballerinas instead of just kicking it, and jumping over the ball, plus possession was really bad” he said, answering a different question from the one he was asked.

“27%, wasn’t it?”

“In the first half, it was 33% in the second, which still isn’t great. Oh, and the best player got a red card.”

“Was that the best player? I was just amazed. I’ve never seen a red card before.”

“Yeah…” He looked as if he was about to say more, but there was a creak from off-screen and he broke off. “Libero, Mama says dinner’s ready” Anita’s voice ordered. He nodded and turned back to the computer. “I have to go.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“See you soon. Bye Dad.”

Fabrizio unthinkingly blew a kiss at the screen and was very glad that Libero had already hung up. His son wasn’t one for sentimental displays and that would have been too much.

“Are you done?” Ermal asked, and he jumped slightly, not realising the angel had been there.

“Yeah, I’m done. Did you want…?”

Fabrizio turned and did a double-take at the sight of him. He was wearing tight black leather trousers, which was the first thing Fabrizio noticed and took some time to look away from, with a belt sporting a large silver buckle. His black T-shirt was equally fitted, and then there was a sparkly silver jacket to add some colour and glitz to the ensemble. It was an outfit that called for attention, and in fact, the jacket was the least eye-catching part. The shirt clung tightly to his chest and flat stomach, offering a tantalising promise of what might lie underneath. The smooth shiny fabric of the trousers invited hands to stroke them. The belt asked to be opened and pulled free in one smooth motion. He looked sexy, Fabrizio admitted. Even if the clothes made the man, it was still unnerving to realise how much he liked the view.

“You look nice. Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“We are going to La Nota Blu to accompany Niccolo” Ermal declared, emphasising ‘we’ so it was impossible to misunderstand.

“What? When was this decided?”

“When he mentioned it last Saturday.”

“You didn’t say anything to me.”

“I knew you’d try to get out of it.”

Fabrizio took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head. “Ermal, he was being polite. He wasn’t actually inviting me to come.”

“Why would he say something he didn’t mean?” Ermal retorted. He crossed the room in a single bound and leaned over the back of the sofa. “Fabrizio, you’ve been given a great opportunity to see the difference you’ve made to someone’s life, to see the effects of your good work, and most importantly to spend a night outside this burrow. I don’t know how you stand it. I feel like the walls are advancing on me. Now come on, put on a nice shirt and pick up your guitar.”

“I don’t have my guitar anymore. I sold it to cover the first month’s rent on this place.”

Ermal looked disappointed, but even that didn’t deter him from his mission. “Won’t it be nice just to see him and listen to him play?” he insisted, and Fabrizio couldn’t deny that. “Alright, but I’m not changing my shirt” he warned.

“Why not?”

“I’m not going on the stage, end of discussion.”

“Fine,” A warm-looking beige coat appeared on Ermal and he immediately removed it, holding it open for Fabrizio. “Then you’re wearing this. It’s too cold to go out without sleeves.”

“I thought you didn’t feel temperature” Fabrizio said.

“I don’t, but you do, and you have to stay warm.”

“It’s 24 degrees outside.” Nevertheless, he put his arms into the coat, knowing that he would be condemned to carry it for at least half of the evening.

They took the metro. Fabrizio bought his ticket quickly, but Ermal clearly had no idea what any of the buttons did, and gained the attention of a few beggars who offered to assist him for payment. Fabrizio dismissed them quickly and offered his own help.

“How have you been getting around if you don’t know how to use the metro?” he asked, putting money into the machine.

“I have been using the metro. I just haven’t bought a ticket before.”

Fabrizio briefly closed his eyes, pondering whether to ask. “How did you manage that?”

“It’s a busy station. If you walk really close behind someone, you can get through the barrier with them and they never notice.”

“Oh my God, Ermal” he muttered, handing the ticket over.

La Nota Blu was found after wandering up and down three streets, and was immediately distinguishable by the blue neon crotchet at the top of the steps. Inside they found a warm, crowded, but surprisingly peaceful bar. The blue theme continued within. Walls, carpets and lights were in a range of shades from light blue to indigo. It was like being in a fish tank. In the centre of the room was a raised stage with a gleaming black piano. No-one was currently playing, preferring to drink or contribute to the rumble of conversation. Fabrizio, who had already accepted that he was old enough to prefer bars where he could hear his companions, liked the place immediately.

He swept his eye across the room, and then did it again. There was no sign of Niccolo. He started to do a short circuit of the bar, before realising that he was peering at strangers and stopped. The disappointment was unexpectedly crushing. “Nico isn’t here,” he said, returning to Ermal. “Let’s go.”

His arm was captured before he’d managed to take one step. “Not so fast,” the angel warned. “Do you know who is here? Me.”

“Can you play the piano?” Fabrizio asked, following him across the room. “Of course,” Ermal looked over his shoulder to answer. “I also play violin. I favour the classic instruments.”

He went straight towards the piano and sat down, flexing his fingers over the keys as if he was about to launch into a full symphony. “Any requests?” he asked.

Fabrizio shrugged. “Whatever you can play.”

Ermal grinned at him. “I can play anything. Angels have a natural affinity for music and I’ve had a long time to practice.”

That sounded like a challenge to Fabrizio. “Something modern,” he suggested. “Something people can sing along to.” In truth, he was genuinely curious to know how talented Ermal was.

Ermal smiled again, took a deep breath, and put his hands on the keys of the piano. Fabrizio recognised the opening bars of the song immediately, though the version he was familiar with began with a guitar. “This is my favourite song” Ermal murmured into the microphone, and then caught Fabrizio’s eye, smiling once more.

The bar was noisier than ever, but he demanded to be listened to. It was impossible to relegate to background music. It was impossible not to stop and take it in, take him in. Increasing numbers of people were starting to turn, and then Ermal did something that came as a surprise. He leaned into the microphone and sang. “Sole alla valle e sole alla collina…”

His voice was high and clear, with a naturally echoing quality that reminded Fabrizio of a choir in church. He could hardly take his eyes off him.

“Amara terra mia, amara e beeeelllla…”

Fabrizio became aware of movement around him and realised that a crowd was gathering. It was a surreal sight. Ermal was surrounded by men and women- okay, mainly women- swaying and silently singing along, lapping up his performance. He was immersed in the music, thoroughly enjoying himself and aware of his effect on the crowd. Fabrizio’s eyes absorbed the contours of his face as he sang with intensity and pleasure. They followed the flex of his bicep as his fingers struck the keyboard, dominating it utterly. They skimmed over his sensuous neck, his smooth, tanned Adam’s apple…

Oh God, what was going on? Why was he thinking weird things about Ermal? About Ermal!

He felt his heart racing and blood rushing to his face, and then his stomach lurched as his gaze landed on Ermal’s mouth. For a reason he couldn’t fathom, he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The song reached a crescendo and the bar erupted into rapturous applause. Ermal looked around the crowd, and as their eyes met, Fabrizio felt his crotch flood with warmth and was assaulted by an image of running his tongue against Ermal’s, tasting the wetness of his mouth, gently biting his soft lips…It was like a horrendous dream about someone completely inappropriate, except he was awake.

He felt faint.

Without thinking, he turned and pushed through the crowd, happily giving up his front row seat to a delighted pair of girls. He headed towards the bar, desperate for a drink, desperate to reinstate order in his twisted mind. ‘I do not fancy Ermal. I do not fancy Ermal.’ The more he said it, the more convinced he became and the better he felt. Unfortunately, the improvement in his psychological welfare was short-lived.

“Encore! Encore!”

Apparently Ermal had amassed a fan club comparable to Andrea Bocelli, he thought sourly. The desire for a drink left him and suddenly he didn’t want to be here anymore. Niccolo wasn’t here and that was the whole point of the visit. In a daze, he located his coat and approached the piano. Ermal was in the middle of Volare, accompanied for the chorus by every voice in the bar. Fabrizio had to work to catch his eye and pointed to the door, indicating his imminent departure.

He was almost at the door when, with applause still ringing through the bar, he felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around. Ermal was there.

“Are you going, Bizio? Wait, I’ll get my jacket.”

Fabrizio frowned and looked at the piano, realising that Ermal had been replaced by a girl who was playing a simple refrain. That explained why he hadn’t heard the music stop.

“You don’t need to” he said as Ermal returned, closely followed by a stunning brunette who almost leaped on him.

“That was amazing,” she said, stroking his arm in a manner that made Fabrizio want to lift her hand and replace it by her side. “Where did you learn to…?”

“Excuse me,” another voice interrupted. All three of them turned to face a man who was gorgeous, tanned and immaculately dressed. “Hey, I didn’t catch your name, but I work here. Can I give you my card?”

Ermal laughed as he took the card. “Oh, I don’t think I’d want to do this professionally.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the man replied smoothly. “I just thought you might like my number.”

Fabrizio rolled his eyes. Great, so not only was Ermal a hit with the ladies, but he was also a gay icon. He’d seen enough. “I’m going. You can let yourself in, right?”

Before Ermal had a chance to answer, he charged to the door and onto the street. After the heat of the bar, it was freezing. It was also entirely bereft of taxis.

It was twenty minutes before Fabrizio managed to find a way home, by which point he felt like he was bordering on hypothermia. Part of him had hoped that Ermal would follow him out, but it was clear that his new friends had his undivided attention now. Well, good luck to him. At least one of them had had a successful night.

Fabrizio raced to pull on his pyjamas and cocooned himself in bed. He stared at the ceiling, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming. What the hell had happened? He kept getting flashbacks to Ermal in the bar, the Ermal that made him think disturbingly rude thoughts, the Ermal that he never knew existed until tonight. It had to be a trick of the light, or the effect of the music. He forced his eyes closed, but it took ages to drop off. Even then, sleep was fitful, with strange dreams. Some of them were about Ermal.

He woke suddenly to the slam of the front door and scrambled around the bedside table to find his alarm clock. It was twelve minutes to three. He pulled the duvet over his shoulders and tried to fall asleep in the five seconds allotted before the bedroom door opened.

“Bizio?”

Even the affectionate nickname was painful now. “What time do you call this?” he demanded roughly. Ermal chuckled in a sheepish way that didn’t sound remotely apologetic. “Sorry, they wouldn’t let me go. They insisted on a full concert. I ended up doing a bunch of Neapolitan songs in a piano bar in Rome, isn’t that unbelievable?”

“Huh, I’m sure you were really fighting to escape.”

There was a slight pause. “Are you okay, Bizio?”

The second use of the nickname was too much. Fabrizio sat up. “Do I need to move onto the sofa? Is that why you woke me? Did you bring a companion back and you need the bed?”

“Why would I have a companion?” Ermal retorted.

“You seemed pretty popular with all genders tonight.”

They looked at each other in the darkness. Fabrizio could see him so clearly. He seemed to absorb the moonlight and glowed gently, looking every inch like the angel he was. He was even more beautiful now than he had been at the bar, the bastard.

Ermal walked backwards out of the room and closed the door quietly. Fabrizio lay down again and punched his pillow, burying his face in it and fighting the urge to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tu sei come il mare...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter now, coming directly after the last one. Thank you so so much to everyone reading. It means the world to me. I hope you enjoy :)

He was rudely awoken by Ermal shaking him. “Alright, rise and shine. Get up.”

“Why?” Fabrizio moaned, trying to hide in the pillow.

“We’re going out today.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go to the beach.”

Fabrizio turned to face the window. He could hear raindrops outside. “It’s raining” he said, and lay down again.

“Well, it’s going to be raining in here anyway,” Ermal retorted. He pulled the duvet off, exposing Fabrizio all the way to his toes, and folded it at the bottom of the bed. “For whatever reason, you were in a bad mood last night and that means you’re going to be moping around all day. I’m not sitting on the sofa and watching the walls get closer again. Let’s go.”

Fabrizio attempted to resist, but the angel would not be dissuaded, and that was how they ended up trapped in Roman traffic with the windscreen wipers at full speed. Ermal was hanging out of the window, blowing cigarette smoke.

“I can’t believe you smoke. It doesn’t seem very angelic.”

“You’re stereotyping again,” Ermal sighed. “Besides, it won’t hurt me. What’s your excuse?” Nevertheless he threw the cigarette out of the window and sat back in his seat. His arm remained out of the window, fingers playing with the raindrops.

“Let’s play a game” he said suddenly.

“What game?”

“I Spy.”

“I Spy?” Fabrizio took his eyes off the car in front to grimace at him. “Really?”

“Not the typical I Spy. You say what the thing reminds you of, and then your partner has to guess what you’re looking at. I’ll start. I spy with my little eye…Jelly beans.”

Fabrizio looked through the windshield. They’d been sitting at a junction for several minutes now and there was very little to see. “The traffic lights, by any chance?”

“Yes!” Ermal clapped cheerfully and Fabrizio couldn’t help smiling. “Okay,” he agreed. “I spy with my little eye…Um…strawberries.”

“Ooh, the red car!”

“That’s correct.”

“Yay!” Ermal threw his arms up victoriously and, fortunately, Fabrizio was distracted by the traffic finally beginning to move. After spending so long struggling to sleep last night, staring at the wall as his stomach tied itself in knots, it seemed almost unfair that Ermal should be capable of making him smile and yet it was so difficult to stay in a bad mood when he was around.

The game continued all the way out of the city and towards the coast.

“I spy with my little eye…Um…maybe nougat.”  
“Where…Oh, the quarry, right?”  
“Uh-huh.”

“I spy with my little eye…a chocolate fudge cake.”  
“That muddy field.”

“I spy with my little eye…marshmallows!”  
“The clouds.”  
“No, the sheep.”

“I spy with my little eye…baklava.”  
“What’s baklava?”  
“It’s a dessert filled with honey and sugar. Okay, I spy with my little eye…cereal?”  
“Is it the hay bales?”  
“It is.”  
“Yes!”

“I spy with my little eye…tiramisu!”  
“Those are the cliffs. We’re nearly there.”

Fabrizio pulled into a gravel car park, surrounded by metal fences that hadn’t been maintained in a while, judging from their peeling white paint. “We should have stopped for lunch. We’ve both got food on the brain” he remarked as he casually parked in two spaces.

“How many points did I get?”

“I don’t know. Were we meant to be keeping track?” Fabrizio queried, smirking.

“Bizio!” Ermal admonished. The nickname didn’t hurt now. “Now we’re going to have to play again on the way home.”

He smiled and Fabrizio smiled back. It was funny, but his mood really did feel lifted.

They had the pebbled beach entirely to themselves. It was as damp and misty on the coast as it had been in the city. The sea was a sludgy colour between brown and grey, and the sky looked as if it had been concreted over. Despite the uninviting weather, Ermal insisted they take a walk. Heads down, they trudged along the gravel and, when they got to the breakwater, stopped. They sat on the damp ground and stared out at the stagnant sea.

Fabrizio felt the gentle raindrops on his head disappear and lifted his eyes to see a large feathered wing over him, acting like an umbrella. He looked at Ermal and saw that the other wing was covering the angel’s head.

“Are they always there?” he asked, slowly reaching up.

“Yes, of course. They’re not a jacket I can take off.”

Fabrizio carefully touched the feathers, prepared to take his hand away if Ermal wanted him to. He gave no indication of discomfort. Fabrizio held one feather between his fingers and then stroked his palm over the mass. They were soft, albeit not as soft as he’d expected, and already felt wet.

“They look beautiful in the rain” he said.

“You should see them in the snow.”

The wings abruptly shook, feathers ruffling violently, chasing Fabrizio’s hand away. He placed it on his lap. “So what do we do now?” he queried.

“We look at the sea.”

“And that’s it?”

“I love the sea.”

“Okay.”

Silence descended again. Fabrizio watched the sea for as long as he could stand it, and then glanced sideways at Ermal. He was still sitting ramrod straight, eyes fixated on the water and sucking in deep breaths of salty air.

“I didn’t tell you this last night,” Fabrizio said. “And I should have done, but you have an amazing voice.”

Ermal looked at him, surprised, and then shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh. Well, like I said, angels have a natural affinity for music.”

“Next time you have a client and you want to prove who you are, try singing instead of showing your wings” Fabrizio suggested.

Ermal smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he looked melancholy as he returned his attention to the waves.

“Can I ask you something?” Fabrizio ventured. Ermal looked at him. “When…When do you get a new client? I mean, when is the mission considered finished?”

“When you die” the angel replied at once.

“Oh!”

“That’s what guardian angel means,” Ermal said testily. “You guard them for their whole life.”

“I see.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Fabrizio shook his head quickly, losing the ability to make eye contact and rubbing his finger in the sand. “I was just thinking that maybe I should look for a bigger apartment if you’re going to be staying permanently.”

“I could live next door.”

He tried to quell the stab of panic in his heart, resisting the impulse to grab Ermal's hand, as if he was planning to leave at this very second.

“Is that what you want? I’m sorry for last night, I didn’t mean…”

“I’m not saying you’re a bad person to live with,” Ermal interrupted. “Far from it, you’re very easy. I just thought you might consider it, so that we won’t be stepping on each other’s toes if we come back with ‘companions’.”

The vitriol in his voice made ‘companions’ sound like a euphemism for something sordid. Fabrizio tried not to take it to heart, not to ask whether being with a human was really such a disgusting idea. He didn't want Ermal to know how much that had stung.

“Have you ever…wanted something like that?” he ventured nervously, already bracing himself for the response. It didn't come immediately. Ermal kept staring at the water, and Fabrizio wasn't sure whether he hadn't heard the question or was just ignoring it. He was about to move on when the angel spoke.

“I had something like that once.”

Fabrizio hadn't expected that reply. He stared impolitely, lost for words. Fortunately Ermal didn't stop talking.

“It was a client, before I really knew what it all meant. She was a good person,” he said quietly, the simple description hiding none of the emotion behind it. “I loved her very much, and then she died, and I learned not to do that again.”

“Not to…get involved with clients?” Fabrizio probed.

“Not to get close to them, because in the end they always die, and a part of me dies with them.”

“What happened to her?” Fabrizio asked after a moment.

Ermal shrugged. “Medicine wasn’t as good as it is now, and they don’t let you come back twice.”

“What was she like?”

He didn’t know if he really wanted to know anything about this woman, and at the same time, he wanted to know everything. What did she look like? What was her personality? Was she anything like him?

“Different,” Ermal said. “People in general were different back then. I suppose you could call them God-fearing. If you said you were an angel, they didn’t question you, and they really tried to prove themselves worthy of the gift. It was only later when I got the doubters and the petty ones. But even by the standards of then, she was different. She was the first one who treated me like a person and not some creature.”

“Do you still miss her?”

He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t bear to hear him say yes, that all of the progress their relationship had made was limited, and it would never go beyond a certain point. Or at least, Ermal would never join him beyond the certain point that Fabrizio had already passed.

Ermal was quiet, frowning pensively. He looked as if he’d never considered that question before. “It’s been so long, I don’t know if I can say that,” he replied finally. “I miss…I miss not being alone.”

Fabrizio moved towards him and touched his hand. Ermal looked at him and he swiftly moved away, but the angel grabbed his hand back and held it. They said nothing as they gazed over the grey water ahead of them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanto se cerchi ogni giorno un frammento d'amore, amore sarà

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter which turned out longer than usual, but I hope you'll enjoy the read :) Thank you very much to everyone who is reading and those who are inspired to share their thoughts on the story. You're my greatest motivation.

Fabrizio's first task of the day was fixing a client's leaky shower. It was Sunday so really he shouldn't have been working, but the plumbers had the same idea, and the call of duty always needed to be picked up by someone. It was a small job anyway, taking only 90 minutes, plus another 90 to get home through weekend traffic.

He returned to find Ermal bent over the coffee table, writing some kind of list. As soon as he heard the door close, the angel flipped the page to show its blank side.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

“I have never been so drenched.”

Ermal looked back at him and his shoulders rolled with contained laughter. Fabrizio's trousers were now several shades darker than they had been when he left, and his hair had dried at funny angles in the sun. His shoes had already been abandoned outside in hopes that the heat would perform the same magic on them.

“Do you need a shower?” Ermal asked politely. Fabrizio squinted at him, unimpressed. “I need a change of clothes,” he replied. “And I need to ask you something.”

Ermal immediately looked wary. Ever since the day on the beach, he'd looked worried every time Fabrizio said that he wanted to ask a question. Aside from that, he was entirely normal, including his dramatics earlier in the week when Fabrizio decided to shave his beard.

“I'm actually going to cry,” he had declared. “I'm so upset. How could you do this?”

He had made a deliberate effort not to look at Fabrizio, and if his gaze accidentally landed on the offending smooth skin, he pulled a face. Fortunately the hair grew back in a couple of days so Fabrizio didn't have to suffer the slings and arrows for long. Ermal had forbidden him to shave again.

It felt odd that so little had changed between them since last weekend, but Fabrizio was content to let it go. He liked the balance they'd attained and under no circumstances would he jeopardise it. Nevertheless he sometimes found himself thinking about their conversation and was gripped by the need to do something, to let Ermal know that he wasn't alone and if Fabrizio could help it, he never would be. Today he had a plan, and for the first Sunday in several months, it didn't involve lying around the house and watching the hours slip by.

“Are you busy today?” he asked, returning to the living room in a new dry outfit. Ermal was writing his list again and once again turned it over upon hearing Fabrizio’s voice. “No,” he said. “Are you doing something?”

“I might go to Ikea.”

“Why?”

“It occurs to me that I haven’t been a very good host to you.”

Ermal looked at him, squinting in confusion. “What are you talking about? You’ve been a great host.”

Fabrizio smiled and shook his head. “No. It’s been three months and you’re still sleeping on a leather sofa.”

“I don’t mind.”

Fabrizio folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I never really thought about how long you would be here,” he said. “I probably just took it day by day, and then one week at a time. If you’re going to be with me for however many years I have left, then this needs to be your home too.”

“So?” Ermal queried warily.

“So we need to get you a proper bed,” Fabrizio answered. “And while we’re on the subject, you never lose an opportunity to tell me how much this room reminds you of…what was it, a lung?”

“I never said lung. I said liver, kidney…”

“I get your point.”

“Although the purple is quite lung-like” Ermal muttered quickly.

“I get your point,” Fabrizio said again. “So if it really bothers you, we’ll repaint it.”

Ermal turned his head sharply and stared at him. “Bizio, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I will if you want me to.”

Ermal continued to look at him for a moment, and then unfolded himself from the sofa. “You’re something special, you know that?” he said. “You’re really something special. Come on then!” He suddenly bounced with excitement. “I’m going to paint it silver!”

“No, Ermal, no garish colours.”

“Oh, so you say it’s my room and now you set conditions?”

“It’s still my house.”

Ermal grinned brightly. “I know.”

**

Fabrizio hated Ikea. He recalled coming here with such high hopes to decorate his new flat, getting lost, and arriving home to find that simply eyeing a room wasn't the same as measuring it. He'd had to return half of his purchases, and the items he did keep gave him hours of sweat and frustrated swearing as he tried to assemble them.

Shopping with Ermal was no more enjoyable, mainly because Fabrizio was a man with a budget and a mission, and the angel was neither of those things. He was constantly being distracted by items that Fabrizio had no intention of buying. A chest of drawers made of light wood that he could have no possible use for. Chinese rice paper lamps that had nowhere to hang. Black and white stock photos for an already cluttered mantelpiece or else to be propped on the windowsill. A green and black draft excluder in the shape of a snake. A woven rug when the floor was already carpeted. A queen-sized bed that would take up half of the living room.

Even when they finally made it to the paint, the problems continued. Garish colours had been removed from contention, but Ermal was very attached to the idea of blue walls, and kept pointing out lighter and lighter shades in an attempt to get Fabrizio's agreement. Fabrizio's suggestions of a more neutral cream were met with as much resistance. For nearly half an hour, they were at a total impasse, unwilling to move for the other. It was Ermal who bowed eventually. Having exhausted all of his blues, he pointed out something else, a very light green.

“How about that? It's still got some colour, but it's boring enough for you” he said, with his usual style of diplomacy.

The green was acceptable. As Ermal said, it was incredibly light and straddled the line between neutral and coloured, in other words exactly what they both wanted. One job was done and now only the futon was left. Ermal nearly lost his mind when he saw the options.

“When you said I was getting a futon, I thought you meant…!” He was bouncing around so much that his sentence kept cutting off. “You know, some low quality fabric seat with the…back cushion that goes down! I’ve slept on those before! They’re horrible! The cushions move and they scratch, but that…That’s a sofa with a bed on it!” He finally took a last leap and threw himself onto the bed, spread-eagling across the mattress.

“I guess you like it then” Fabrizio remarked mildly, smiling. Ermal lifted his head to answer. “It’s brilliant. Look at how big this is. We could both fit on this. And look at the sofa.” He turned onto his knees and crawled to the sofa portion, lifting his feet so that his shoes didn’t touch the bed. “It’s leather just like your old one.”

Fabrizio admitted that it stung a bit to replace his old leather sofa, which was of a superior quality that probably wasn't manufactured anymore, but Ermal was the one who used that seat more and so his needs were paramount. This particular futon was top of the line and he had to admit it looked great. As Ermal had said, it was more of an actual double bed attached to a sofa than a sofa which turned itself into a bed.

A wicked part of his brain asked whether buying a futon was required at all, when there was a perfectly good bed already in the flat. It didn't have to mean anything. It could simply be sharing a bed for convenience and comfort. They could sleep top to tail if Ermal preferred. He was too much of a coward to suggest the idea, however. It didn't feel right to offer Ermal his own bed and then declare that he'd changed his mind and wanted Ermal to move into his room instead, especially knowing how sensitive the angel was to perceived closeness. Besides, having a second bed would allow him to keep the kids overnight when they came for Christmas. That alone made the extra expense worth it.

They packed their purchases into the car and headed for home. Fabrizio suggested that they stop off at a café for lunch, and it was on the way back to the car after eating that Ermal suddenly bolted ahead and plastered himself to the window of a nearby shop.

“Hey, Bizio, what’s your favourite colour?” he asked excitedly. Fabrizio arrived at his side and saw that they were outside a florist, with numerous bouquets displayed in the window. Red, yellow, orange and white seemed to be the fashionable colours of the moment.

“Blue” he answered.

Ermal scanned the shop window and then hummed unhappily. “What’s your second favourite colour?”

The true answer to that was black. In fact, black was probably his favourite colour overall, but there was no chance of finding black flowers if that was why Ermal was asking. He looked at the angel and thought about the last time he’d brought flowers, as part of his ruse at the hospital, and how well the colour had suited him. His bright smile and sense of fun was like a little ray of sunshine, following Fabrizio around.

“Yellow” he said. Ermal flashed a grin at him, and Fabrizio wondered if he’d realised the connection, but he simply turned and headed for the shop door. “Where are you going?” Fabrizio asked.

“I’ll just be a minute. Stay outside.”

Fabrizio did as instructed, leaning against the wall and opening his phone to check if there had been any new messages.

“Ta-da!”

He turned to find Ermal had appeared behind him, holding a neat bouquet of small, round yellow flowers with a ribbon tying them together.

“Did you buy them?” Fabrizio asked.

“Of course.”

“They’re lovely.”

“They’re for you” the angel declared, pushing them into Fabrizio’s hands.

“What for?”

“For being you.”

Fabrizio blinked in surprise and Ermal immediately looked away. “Forget I said that. That was too cheesy. They’re to say thanks for…buying me a bed and stuff.” He nodded decisively and started walking away at speed. His escape was foiled by the need to share a car to get home, and since Fabrizio had never been good at expressing himself with words, the angel was mercilessly cuddled instead.

Now came the fun part- trying to put the damn sofa together.

“Alright, so the instructions are in Japanese. This is off to a very good start.”

Fabrizio caught Ermal's eye and the angel grinned at him, evidently amused by the situation. “I'm sure we can work it out with common sense,” he said optimistically. “Okay, so this long piece has to be the back...or maybe this is what the mattress rests on. Huh...” He frowned at the stick in his hand, turning it around in search of clues. “Ah, it says F on it!” he declared triumphantly. “Look for E or G.”

Fabrizio cast about and located the letters. E was a slightly shorter piece than F, and G was so much shorter than he almost couldn't find it. Ermal took them both and tried to fit them against F, and then laid the three out on the floor and stared at them as if waiting for them to assemble themselves.

Meanwhile Fabrizio took off his jacket, preparing for the amount of sweat he was about to give this project, and picked up another long piece entitled A. Experimentally he took F and screwed the two together. Ermal's jaw dropped as he watched.

“Why does A go into F? That doesn't make sense!”

He sounded so infuriated that Fabrizio had to smile. Maybe this could be fun after all.

In total, the endeavour took an hour and a half. Ermal was demoted to assistant after nearly exploding with frustration, and served his role well. He supervised, gave advice that was not always appreciated or helpful, brought lemonade and insisted on very welcome breaks, and made Fabrizio laugh by attempting to duel him with pieces of the futon. When it was done, he tested his new bed extensively- sitting, lying, experimenting with various sleep positions- and Fabrizio felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with his exertions, and everything to do with how happy Ermal looked.

**

Fabrizio couldn’t get to sleep that night. Summer was at its highest peak, and even though the air conditioning had been on for hours, the heat was building up again in its absence. He turned onto both sides and then lay on his back, wondering how comfortable Ermal was out on his new bed.

“Hey Ermal, are you sleeping?” he asked conversationally.

“No.”

He smiled. “Do you want to make a midnight snack?”

“Yes.”

They met in the kitchen, Fabrizio in the black shorts he normally slept in, Ermal in a more modest T-shirt and pyjama bottoms. Fabrizio felt very underdressed by comparison. “What are we going to make?” he asked. “I could bake us some brownies, maybe. I'm pretty good at cakes and stuff.”

“Or we could take the easier option” Ermal suggested, opening the cupboard and grabbing two bags of crisps. He tossed one to Fabrizio and opened the fridge, fetching a chocolate bar for each of them, and then concluded the feast by grabbing a box of biscuits from on top of the fridge.

“Yeah, or we could do that” Fabrizio conceded. There was no table in the kitchen and he didn't want to risk crumbs on the carpet, so they just sat on the cold tiled floor with the biscuit box placed between them.

“What kind of things do you normally bake?” Ermal asked, unwrapping his chocolate bar.

“Mostly chocolate, to be honest,” Fabrizio admitted. “I'm not a master baker by any stretch...”

Ermal snorted and he broke off, frowning, before he understood. “You...” He tapped his foot against the angel's leg and shook his head, trying to look disapproving. “I'm not a...an accomplished baker. I can do chocolate fudge cake, brownies and Rice Krispie buns. With two young kids, those are all the recipes I need.”

“Have you ever tried torte, or red velvet buns?”

Fabrizio shook his head. “They're still chocolate," Ermal explained. "But chocolate for grown-ups.”

“I'll check them out if you want.”

“I'm not asking you for them. They make a huge mess, or maybe I'm not a master baker either.” He grinned impishly and Fabrizio tried not to smile back. He wondered how long it would take to live that one down.

“So do you have any other interesting skills I should know about?” the angel inquired, moving onto the crisps.

“I don't think so. What about you?”

“I can milk a cow” he replied immediately. Fabrizio's eyebrows shot up. “That is interesting. Where did you learn to do that?”

“My grandmother lived on a farm. We used to go up there for the summer and she taught me how to milk the cows, brush the horse, collect the eggs from the chicken coop. I wasn't allowed to shear the sheep though. And I wasn't a great student. She'd try to teach me and I'd just chase the chickens around with a stick or try to ride the horse or play with her big dog. I did learn how to milk the cows though. That's one of the achievements I'm most proud of.”

“Those summers sound like fun” Fabrizio remarked.

“They were,” Ermal nodded, smiling happily. “That farm was an oasis. My father never came with us so it was just me and my family up there. I had my first pet there. The big dog had puppies, and my grandmother sold them all except for one because I asked for it. I had to leave it on the farm at the end of the summer because my father would have killed it if I'd brought it home. I always remember that.” He disappeared inside his head for a few seconds, and then re-emerged. “What about you? Did you have a pet when you were young?”

Fabrizio shook his head. “Do your kids have a pet?” Ermal asked. He shook his head again. “It's a rite of passage,” he explained. “Kids want pets, parents don't because they know who'll end up having to look after them.”

“Okay, so no pets. Tell me something else. What about jobs? Have you worked anywhere other than the centre?”

Fabrizio started counting on his fingers. “Two weeks on a construction site, one day in a mechanic's shop, one month in an office, and three months as a motorcycle courier.”

“Oh, so you were one of those people who zoom around the streets on their little mopeds? I bet you looked so cool.”

Fabrizio chuckled and looked down, hoping the kitchen was dim enough to hide his embarrassment. “I doubt it. My recreational drug use was extending beyond the weekend at that point, so I was followed by more car horns than admiring glances.”

He’d said it only to deflect the compliment. Modesty was a virtue, after all, and self-deprecation the highest form of it. The words were out before he really understood what he was saying and to whom, and by then it was too late to snatch them back. He was allowed one second of silence to comprehend the full horror of his mistake before Ermal spoke.

“Is that why you didn't stay long?”

Fabrizio cautiously looked at him, but Ermal was eating a cookie and looking at him with mild curiosity. He didn’t look like a dog slavering over a bone as so many did when Fabrizio let slip about his past, excitedly wanting to hear all the gory details. There was something puerile about their interest. They reminded Fabrizio of the people who used to knit beside the guillotine.

“I got fired,” he admitted. “They all fired me, and then they stopped hiring me altogether. I can’t say I blame them.”

Ermal bit his lip. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fabrizio shook his head. “I don’t know what there is to say. I went to a party when I was nineteen and there was cocaine there,” he said simply. “A lot of people I knew had been doing it from around fifteen. They said it would help me to loosen up and have fun, and it did. It made me...I thought it made me a better version of myself. I was so painfully shy, but when I was high, I could talk to people. I mean...” He pulled nervously at his hair. “I was incredibly loud. I only found out later that people thought I was obnoxious when I thought I was being funny.”

“Is that why you kept it a secret?” Ermal asked. “I didn’t want to push you, but I hoped you would tell me.”

“Did you know?” Fabrizio asked, surprised.

“Not until recently. When you were talking to that guy Niccolo, it was pretty clear.” Ermal reached out and briefly touched his hand. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said. “What happened in the past doesn’t define who you are now.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of,” Fabrizio said quietly. “I can see the way people’s eyes change when they find out.”

It happened all the time. People remained polite in their words and actions, but ‘drug addict’ became the only thing on their minds. He was no longer offered wine at parties. Even among his clients, especially the older ones, there was a loss of respect. He’d seen some of them check their medicine cabinets when they thought he wasn’t looking. One of the old men had outright said that Fabrizio had no right to preach at him about how he should live.

“But you were able to get off them” Ermal said simply.

“Yeah, I was…” He broke off and swallowed, reliving the memories and feeling his eyes sting. It was so painful that he didn’t even want to speak about it. “One of my friends overdosed in the bathroom when I was there, in the living room. I had to break down the door to get to him. And then…There was...I stole a car. A group of us stole a car and we did some joyriding through Rome. I was in the driver’s seat when we crashed and the others left me. That was one of the worst feelings in the world, discovering that my friends weren't really my friends.” He buried his face in his hands. “I know how awful this sounds.”

“There is nothing you could say that would shock me,” Ermal said. “Did you set fire to a densely populated building for the glory? No, you did not. You made a mistake and you fixed it. Paradise loves atonement” he added, with the slightest hint of bitterness.

“They put me into a rehab programme in prison,” Fabrizio said. “I know it worked out for the best, but it was terrible at the time. I felt like a child when I got out. No, I felt as if the world was empty and pitch black. That’s the thing about addiction. It’s not all about going mad and taking fits if you don’t have drugs every few hours. Sometimes it just happens that the drugs become the centre of your world, and there are moments when you know they aren’t making you happy, but you can’t stop because there’s nothing else you enjoy more. So when it’s all gone…what do you do with your life?”

“And what did you do?”

“I started looking for shards of light in the darkness,” Fabrizio replied after a moment. “My kids, my friends, my job…” And Ermal, he thought. Ermal was one of those shards now. “Over time I gathered enough of them to create a column of light where I could live. I can still see the darkness all around me, but as long as I stay inside the area where the good things are, I’m okay.”

Ermal moved across the floor and hugged him.

“What is this for?” Fabrizio asked.

“I think you deserve it. You’re a survivor. You won against an enemy that defeated so many others and made a lot of people happy because of it. The least you can be given is a hug.” 

Fabrizio smiled and hugged him back. “You're sweet.”

“Many people have said this. Well, a few people have said it many times.” He pulled back and sat on the floor next to Fabrizio. “Are we going to paint the walls tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” the angel declared. “I think it'll be fun. A nice busy weekend.”

“How is your bed? Is it comfortable?”

“It's comfortable. It’s so big, Fabrizio,” he enthused. “I can roll around on it.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s good.”

“I was happy with the sofa,” Ermal continued. “I don’t want you to think I wasn’t, but it is nice to have my own bed. I know sleep isn’t essential for me, but it’s incredibly boring to be awake constantly. Once the clock hits 2am, nothing happens for hours. I hate it. Hey,” He turned eagerly. “Now that there’s a big comfy bed in there, we can watch movies in the living room.”

Fabrizio smiled and lifted his arm, pulling the angel in for another hug. “That sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I'd be so happy if you were able to leave a comment :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bere fa male, il fumo uccide, nessuno mai qui ti dirà che è peggio amare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye, my perfectly symmetrical word count. I will miss you. Many thanks to my readers and commenters <3 I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The movie was reaching its climax now. The female lead had just been told by the ubiquitous 'other man who turned out to be an ass to make the first guy look like the best option' that her hero had departed with remarkable and barely believable speed. Now she was running through the streets in search of him.

“Why does no-one talk to each other?” Ermal asked. His head was in its usual position on Fabrizio's shoulder, and every so often he'd shift a bit until he was almost nuzzling his neck. Fabrizio had been absentmindedly playing with the angel's hair for about twenty minutes, lulled by the repetitive motions and the feel of it between his fingers. “They're supposed to be in love. Why didn't he just tell her, this asshole is telling me stories, please confirm or deny?”

“Rule of drama” Fabrizio murmured.

“It's certainly very dramatic...Oh, what are the chances of that happening?”

Fabrizio started at Ermal's shout, looking around in confusion. What had happened? Why was the scene on the screen suddenly different? He looked at Ermal for guidance and saw the angel grinning incredulously at him.

“You're falling asleep.”

“Wha-? No, I'm no...” Fabrizio could hear his voice slurring, as badly as a man who'd downed eight glasses of wine. Ermal's smile only widened.

“You are! Look, you're going right now.”

Fabrizio quickly lifted his head and blinked his eyes open. “You...” he accused inelegantly.

Ermal shook his head, on the point of laughter. “Not me, you're just weak.”

“I'm weak” Fabrizio sighed.

“Go to bed, old man.” Ermal reached over and took his hand, rubbing his thumb over Fabrizio's knuckles, which was really no encouragement to get up and leave.

“Are you staying here?”

“Yeah, I'm going to finish watching.”

“Tell me what happens.” With regret, he disentangled their hands and stood up, stretching with a loud groan.

“Goodnight.” Ermal waved, and perhaps it was the lowered inhibitions as a result of being tired, but Fabrizio didn't wave back. He bent down and lightly kissed the other man's cheek. “Goodnight.”

He was sure that he didn't imagine the pink tinge in the angel's face, although what caused it was harder to ascertain. He nearly apologised for being so forward, but that would begin an awkward conversation that he didn't feel ready to face, so he let the moment be and went to bed.

As soon as he woke in the morning, he was skewered by regret. What had he been thinking? Ermal had trusted him with sensitive information so that he would understand that they could never be more than a consultant and client. He'd clearly laid out why he didn't let himself get close to people and yet Fabrizio had forced himself on the angel, despite knowing he wouldn't want it. He needed to get a grip if he wanted to avoid ruining everything. That would never happen again, he swore. Never ever again.

It did happen again, and again. No matter how much he tried to honour his good intentions, Fabrizio's heart betrayed him every time. He found almost everything Ermal did irresistible, and the poor angel was wholly innocent of the effect that simply being close to Fabrizio had on him. He seemed to have become more comfortable with affection- kissing Fabrizio's cheek when he was happy, cuddling up to him when they watched a movie, playing with his hands and tracing the tattoos when he was bored- trusting him to know that it meant nothing. Fabrizio found it difficult to cope. As time went on, his feelings were only growing stronger.

When they went to the supermarket and Ermal tried to hide chocolate in the trolley, bickering gently with Fabrizio about how much milk they needed, and he couldn't shake the feeling of how nice and domestic it all was.

When they went for a walk in the park and Ermal tried to snuggle every puppy they came across, while Fabrizio watched and quietly melted.

When they did housework together and Fabrizio found himself using it as an excuse to get closer to Ermal, his heart rate going wild when their hands touched while passing something to the other.

When they would meet for their increasingly common late night snacks and talk until Fabrizio fell asleep mid-sentence, knowing Ermal could go on for as long as necessary, not wanting to stop until he was incapable of continuing anymore.

When they washed the car and Ermal would deliberately stand in the path of the hose, giggling hysterically when he was soaked, and the sound of his laugh was so wonderful that Fabrizio forgave him for being no help whatsoever.

When they spent a rainy weekend curled up on the futon, playing card games, eating reheated pasta because neither of them could be bothered to cook or go out, reading papers and books with Ermal's feet on his lap like they belonged there. They watched cheesy black-and-white movies under a fuzzy blanket with hot chocolate, until Fabrizio fell asleep during 'Roman Holiday'. He woke in darkness to find Ermal sleeping next to him, and instead of doing the sensible thing and sneaking back to his bed, he closed his eyes and let himself fall back to sleep until morning.

When he was distracted, watching a football match so he could talk to Libero about it or making a snack, and Ermal would unexpectedly come up behind him and put his arms around him. The hugs were always brief and Ermal would go about his normal business as if nothing unusual had happened, not even speaking to acknowledge it, but Fabrizio would be left frozen and very grateful that his face was hidden.

When Ermal would look at him and suddenly giggle, not as if he'd noticed something funny, but simply as if he was happy. Or the moments when Fabrizio would turn and find Ermal already looking at him, and the angel would smile shyly as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Fabrizio never knew what to make of those moments, but his face would grow warm and he'd have to look away before Ermal noticed.

This was getting worse on a daily basis, he accepted ruefully, and it needed to stop. It didn't matter how much he fantasised, it was never going to happen, and Ermal might leave if Fabrizio continued to make him uncomfortable. It was strange to realise that only a few months ago, Ermal leaving would have been a relief. Now it was more like a nightmare. When Fabrizio thought of the life he'd had before the angel arrived, it seemed like a cold, sterile blank page. Now the page was painted with swirling, mesmerising colours. He couldn't go back to the way he used to live. It would kill him. And for that reason, he had to get over this ridiculous crush and appreciate that Ermal was part of his life in any capacity.

He knew this, and yet why did he now find himself dialling the number of a well-known restaurant, keeping one ear on the phone and one ear on the sound of the shower running as he did so?

“Hello, Montanari’s” the chipper voice on the other end said.

“Hello,” Fabrizio said quickly, almost sitting to attention. “Is it possible to reserve a table?”

“What time?”

“Uh…” He looked at the clock. “Say 7.30pm?”

“Inside or outside?”

“Do you have heat lamps?”

“We do.”

He thought about for a second. “Inside.”

He didn’t miss the brief silence before the receptionist spoke again. No doubt she was wondering why he’d asked about heat lamps if he wasn’t planning to sit outside, but he’d only wanted to know what his options were. Pasta cooled down too quickly outdoors, and he was hoping that the meal would involve more than shovelling food into their mouths before leaving.

“What name is the reservation under?” she asked.

“Mobrici.”

“That’s on the system, sir.”

“Hey, Bizio, the bathroom is yours now.”

He nearly dropped the phone, scrambling to hang up, and remembering too late that he hadn’t said thank you. He turned quickly, hoping to compose himself and act normal, an ambition that was immediately ruined. Most people stepped out of the shower looking like the corpse of a drowning victim, but Ermal looked beautiful and innocent and ethereal, with his hair in damp tendrils around his face. How did he do that? It was so unfair. Fabrizio almost felt sick with desire.

“Thanks,” he managed to say. “Ermal, are you busy this evening? I was thinking we could go out for dinner, my treat.”

The angel looked surprised, and then curious. “Where would you like to go?”

“How about Montanari's?” Fabrizio suggested, as if he’d just pulled the name from the air.

“I don't know it.”

“It's just a classic restaurant. They do great pizza and tagliatelle.”

“Is it expensive? Do I need to wear a good shirt?”

“There's no dress code. You can go as you are,” Fabrizio replied unthinkingly. Both of them glanced at Ermal’s pale blue bathrobe. “No, I mean...”

Ermal smiled good-humouredly. “What are you going to wear? I don't want to look stupid either way.”

He shrugged. “Probably jeans and a shirt.”

“Okay,” Ermal nodded, looking almost shy as he backed towards the bathroom. “Um…I’m going to dry my hair properly then. Give me another half-hour.”

Fabrizio had a decent selection of respectable shirts these days, thanks to Ermal. Most of them were the same shirt in different colours, as Ermal's style of shopping was to find a cut that suited and then clear the shop of every design he could find. The navy one would be his choice this evening. It wasn't too bold, it looked smart, and dark colours had always looked good on him. Obviously it didn't matter if he looked good considering it wasn't a date, but there was no harm in making an effort. Just like there was no harm in putting on some of the perfume that Ermal said he liked every time Fabrizio wore it. And as for choosing to eat at Montanari's, a cosy restaurant with soft lighting and an intimate atmosphere, that was only because he liked their food. It certainly wasn't a date, even if a large part of him wished it was.

Ermal had gone in the opposite direction with his fashion, wearing a bright green shirt with a swirling psychedelic pattern. He flashed a brilliant smile and Fabrizio wanted to kiss him with every fibre in his body, but he forced himself to stay still. This had been an awful idea, he realised. He'd placed himself in a situation that abounded with temptation, ignoring how difficult it was to stay cool around Ermal under normal circumstances, and now he was condemned to spend this evening pretending that nothing was amiss. He was a moron, trying to bring dreams that should have stayed in his head to life, without thinking of how he would manage the consequences.

Fabrizio rarely ate out at high-class restaurants, but when he did, it was always Montanari’s. The food was always good and the décor created a warm atmosphere. It was designed to make customers feel as if they were dining in a piazza with terracotta tiles and brick walls, plants and iron balconies. For those without reservations, there was always a queue for tables. Fabrizio and Ermal were able to bypass the crowd on the ground floor, and were brought directly to their table underneath one of the balconies. They were handed two crimson leather-bound menus. Fabrizio had no need to read it, being well-versed in the restaurant’s selection and already knowing what he would order. While Ermal studied the food, Fabrizio studied him. Was it the dim lighting that made him look so pretty, or something else? His hair was especially shiny and buoyant tonight, and his eyes looked darker and his smile brighter in the glow from the candles.

His hand was resting on the table beside the plate and Fabrizio couldn't help looking at it. Ermal had beautiful hands. He was a little entranced by them. They were so smooth and delicate. He had held those hands before, but never in the way he now wanted to. That was the problem with them. They were already so familiar- they held hands, Ermal pecked his cheek when he was in high spirits and came into Fabrizio's bedroom as if it was his too- that there was no way to signal a changing level of interest.

The server came to take their orders. Fabrizio decided to have only water to drink, since he was driving, and a plate of spaghetti. Ermal ordered fish and, after asking permission from Fabrizio, the house red. His eyes lit up when the drinks arrived.

“Look, water and wine,” he declared, moving the glasses around the table as if performing a magic trick. “If I switch them very quickly, I’m performing a miracle.”

“So you are. I’m very impressed” Fabrizio agreed.

The food arrived and he smiled at the server. “Thank you” he said. She smiled back and nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“We will…” Fabrizio trailed off as he turned and saw Ermal lifting his fork, loaded with stolen spaghetti. “Are you serious?”

“I want to see how it tastes” the angel said unrepentantly, cramming the pasta into his mouth.

“How does it taste?” Fabrizio asked curiously.

“It's good.”

He nodded. “Now I want to taste a bit of your fish.”

“Absolutely.”

Ermal cut off a piece of fish and speared it on his fork, extending it across the table. The challenge in his face was unmistakeable and Fabrizio accepted it. Rather than take the fork, he leaned over and bit the fish straight off it.

“Good?” Ermal asked.

“Good.”

The tension could be cut with a knife. Fabrizio could almost feel the electricity between them, and for a few seconds, anything was possible. Ermal abruptly sighed, drew up his shoulders and looked down at the plate. The spell was broken in an instant.

In another life, he imagined doing everything he was too cowardly to attempt. He thought of reaching out to hold Ermal's hand, interlocking their fingers. He thought of speaking to him, making some smooth remark that would never actually survive the transition from his brain to his mouth, instead of grinning like a moron every time their eyes met and hoping the light was dim enough to hide the red in his cheeks.

When they got outside, he thought of holding his hand again; not his wrist as if Ermal was a child he didn't want to lose in a crowd, but his hand, feeling the warmth of another person's palm against his on a cold night. When they got home, he even thought about asking if Ermal wanted to share the bed. Not to do anything, just to be there, just to let Fabrizio have him as close as he could ever be.

He attempted none of those things, of course. Instead, with the exception of their brief game, they stayed to their own sides of the table and passed a very pleasant meal together. Ermal proved adept at napkin origami, making a swan from his own napkin and a flower from Fabrizio's, gifting both artworks to his dining companion. The decor of the restaurant reminded him of Romeo and Juliet, and that began a talk on the play which lasted twenty minutes. Fabrizio couldn't follow everything, but he enjoyed listening to Ermal's passion and knowledge more than what he was actually saying. They had gelato for dessert, which came in plastic cups shaped like monsters, causing Ermal to light up with joy. He insisted on taking his cup home afterwards. For what purpose, Fabrizio couldn't ascertain, but he put the little orange gremlin on the coffee table in front of his futon like a prize statue.

As Fabrizio was heading for his room, Ermal stopped him. “I had a great time, Bizio. This was a great idea.”

He hugged him, and Fabrizio had been coping well until then, but suddenly all kinds of longing sprang forth and he had to force himself to let go. He put the origami figures on the bedside table and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as music played above. This had been a great night. He'd had a lot of fun. There was no reason why his gut should be churning so much, or why his eyes should be stinging. There was no reason at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, please leave a note in the box below :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ti amo anche se sei di Milano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! <3 As always, thank you for your comments and support, and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

“Okay, help me out here. Have I got everything? My present, your present, change of clothes, pyjamas...”

“Toothbrush” Ermal said.

“Yes,” Fabrizio declared gratefully. “Phone, charger, keys...”

“Your pills.”

“Right, I'd forgotten those.”

“You are so bad about taking your pills,” Ermal complained. “They're supposed to be preventative, not a treatment.”

“I know!” Fabrizio moaned. “Are you bringing anything?”

“I don't think so. I'll see what they wear in Milan and adjust accordingly.”

He nodded and looked around the room again. His suitcase sat on the bed, half-packed with a selection of items piled around it, and Ermal sitting up against the headboard. He looked like an emperor watching proceedings with only vague interest.

“Is there anything else I need?” Fabrizio asked.

“An Italian phrasebook?”

“Why would I need that?”

“So you can be understood in Milan,” Ermal replied innocently. “No offence, but sometimes you speak in a language that is not Italian and I don't understand what you're saying. Even when you explain, I can't figure out how the words correlate.”

“That's Roman dialect” he said.

“Hm, yes, I'm sure we will find lots of Romans wandering around Milan.”

“We will find at least two, and they are the ones who matter.”

Ermal eyed him, smiling slightly, and then began speaking in an incomprehensible tongue. It sounded like Russian, but when Fabrizio asked, Ermal shook his head. His strong suit was not languages and he couldn't determine any more than 'eastern European'. All eastern European languages sounded like Russian to his ear.

“It’s Albanian” Ermal said finally, taking pity after Fabrizio had reeled off half of the Balkan countries without getting the correct answer.

“That’s not a language you hear much of” he remarked.

“I suppose not,” the angel admitted. “I love languages. I can speak a few, actually.”

“Is that an angel thing or something you learned on your own?”

“I learned it on my own. The more languages you can speak, the more people you can help and therefore the greater variety of places you get to visit. It’s very smart thinking.”

“Very smart,” Fabrizio agreed. “So what’s the best place you’ve ever visited?”

“Albania,” he said at once. “It’s the best place in the world. Italy comes second though.”

**

They took the train up to Milan. TrenItalia helpfully provided a three hour express between the cities, which afforded Fabrizio the chance to sit back and relax, watching the countryside and even nodding off as they passed Florence. Ermal watched the view as well, and then borrowed Fabrizio's phone to play Angry Birds, which he enjoyed so much that he handed the phone back with the battery at 38%.

The tannoy announced that they were arriving in Milan, waking Fabrizio. He kept his eyes closed and felt himself being shaken a few seconds later. “Bizio, wake up. We're nearly there.”

“I know” he mumbled, sitting upright and rubbing his jaw.

They pulled into Milano Centrale, gathered up their belongings, and stepped into a shockingly large crowd of people on the platform. Fabrizio grabbed Ermal's hand to keep them together and they began to shuffle towards the building. Fabrizio was afraid that his feet could be lifted from the ground at any moment, that he could fall and be trampled, or the crowd bottleneck and either suffocate him or stampede. Only knowing that Ermal was still somewhere close behind kept him calm.

They made it into the building, where the air immediately cooled and became easier to breathe, and the crowd began to disperse. And then they were on the escalator, in their own piece of air, and into the spacious entrance hall. Fabrizio led the way to find a taxi rank. They were still holding hands and, wickedly, he decided to pretend he hadn't noticed. Apparently Ermal had the same idea, or perhaps he’d genuinely forgotten that Fabrizio was still holding onto him. Their hands split only when the taxi arrived, springing apart like two flipped magnets.

The hotel wasn't far from the station so the ride took only ten minutes. It was a basic, but comfortable three star establishment. Fabrizio would have saved money by booking into a simple B&B, but his angel’s penchant for luxury had come to the fore and it had taken a while to talk him down from the five star palace he’d wanted. This was a compromise, and to give Ermal his due, it was nice to walk into a room with working air conditioning and a bathroom clean enough to enter in bare feet. There was only one problem, an issue neither of them had thought about until they were looking at it.

“Maybe it’s a…” Ermal optimistically approached and pulled at the mattress. “No, it is not a twin.” He looked at Fabrizio and grinned ruefully. “You don’t snore, do you?”

The dormitory in the B&B had bunk beds. He’d seen it on the website. Why had he assumed that a hotel room would provide the same service? He cast his mind back and suddenly remembered that in the past, they had. When he went on holiday with his family, he would either get an apartment with two rooms or bunks for the kids. He had completely forgotten that those weren’t standard in a normal hotel room.

“Do you want to be nearer to the window or the door?” he asked. There was nothing he could do about it now, short of causing a scene and asking for a change of rooms, and this wasn’t worth it. Besides, the room had a balcony with a view over the city and he didn’t want to lose that.

“The window, I suppose, in case I want to stretch my wings in the night.”

“Okay.” Fabrizio dumped his suitcase on the other side, briefly thought about unpacking, and then decided that he couldn’t be bothered. He would be here for only a few days. Living out of the case was easier.

“Do you need the bathroom?” Ermal asked.

“Not at the moment.”

“Okay, I’m going to wash my hair. Travelling always makes me feel dirty.”

While Ermal disappeared into the bathroom, Fabrizio dug his cigarettes out of his jacket and headed onto the balcony. The glittering yellow lights didn’t fill him with a painful unnamed loneliness for once, because his kids were somewhere out there. He lit the cigarette and allowed his gaze to wander over the cityscape, wondering if one of those windows were theirs. He should have asked Giada to put an electric blue lamp in the window so he could pick it out among the thousands. Were they in bed, resting for tomorrow’s festivities? It was more likely in Anita’s case that she was fighting the sandman to stay up for midnight, and the thought made him smile. Last year she had run up to him on the morning of her birthday and declared with no small amount of disappointment that she didn’t feel five. She looked so young in the photos now. It was unbelievable how much she’d grown in only twelve months.

He turned as the balcony door opened and Ermal stepped out, clad in his omnipresent blue bathrobe. “Can I join you?” he requested.

“Sure, but watch you don’t catch cold with your wet hair” Fabrizio said, touching the curls. They parted easily under his hand and he suddenly thought of how much fun it would be to play with them when they were wet, but that was a consideration for another time. He handed one of his cigarettes over and lit it, and they puffed in companionable silence for a moment.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” Ermal remarked suddenly. “Only because I’d miss you if you died of lung cancer.”

Fabrizio glanced at him, grinning. “You’d miss me?”

The angel shrugged. “I’m used to you now.”

“You sound like my son. If he sees my cigarettes, he’ll steal them and put them in the bin. He thinks he can force me to quit that way.”

“He’s a wise boy.”

Fabrizio shook his head, his sigh creating a large plume of smoke like dragon’s breath. “No, he’s too much like me. If there’s an element of risk in anything, he takes it to its worst extreme. I tried to teach him about the dangers of throwing stones and now he’s afraid of snowball fights in case there are stones in the snow. I’ve made him into a nervous wreck.”

Ermal leaned against the railings of the balcony and half-turned to face him. “So what are your kids like?” he queried.

“They're brilliant,” Fabrizio said immediately. “I know I'm biased, but they really are. Lib is a bit quiet, but he's so clever and so kind. And Ani is so much fun. I don't know where she came from. She has so much confidence and self-belief. Actually, remember when you told me about your sister, that she was like a little puppy chasing the big dogs? Ani is a bit like that too.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Ermal flicked a bit of ash off his cigarette and took another drag, blowing the smoke in a long column. “I should like her then. And your son sounds just like you, so I'm sure I'll like him too.”

Fabrizio looked away to prevent the infantile question from leaving his mouth. 'Do you like me?' A question asked by shy children on the playground, trying to ascertain if they've found a new friend. ‘But do you like me, Ermal? I like you so much.’

“You’re a good father” the angel continued, and even though it was meant to be a compliment, it felt like a little stab to Fabrizio’s chest. “I’m not” he said quietly.

“You are. You love your children, you want the best for them, you teach them and take care of them…”

“Ermal,” he said sharply. “I’m not around enough to take care of them. I don’t teach them well enough and I compensate by worrying. I love them, yes, but that doesn’t make me special.”

The angel turned away and rested his chin on his hands, staring out over Milan. Fabrizio was about to apologise for his harsh tone, knowing that Ermal had only been trying to be kind, when the other man abruptly spoke.

“Maybe it’s patronising of me to treat men who love their children as rare creatures who need to be paraded through the streets, but…I can’t help myself. To me, they are.”

Fabrizio moved towards him and gently put an arm around his shoulders, ready to move away if Ermal rejected it. He didn’t. He edged closer to Fabrizio and rested his head on his shoulder. Fabrizio tightened his hold and put a kiss in those dark curls before he could stop himself. Ermal wrapped one arm around his back and lifted his head. At first it seemed that he was only looking at Fabrizio, and then he kissed his cheek. It wasn’t the first time, but this was softer and more lingering than all the others, and Fabrizio momentarily forgot how to breathe. Ermal’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, his curls tickling Fabrizio’s jaw, and he pushed them back before holding onto the other man again. Something special was happening, he thought. They were in a place that they might never be again and his shoulder was stiff from trying not to move, not to do anything that might disturb this moment.

**

Inevitably, of course, it had to end. The cigarettes burned out and the temperature dropped until it became uncomfortable. Even a never-ending hug couldn’t stave off the chill and so they separated, seeking the warmth of the room and bed. Fabrizio went into the bathroom to change into pyjamas, and upon returning, found the angel staring at the bed and making no attempt to get into it. Somehow that moment of intimacy on the balcony made sharing seem like a bigger deal than it had been before, or at least that’s how Ermal seemed to see it.

“You know...I can sleep anywhere, if you'd prefer...” he said nervously.

“I don't mind sharing the bed,” Fabrizio interjected. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Then get in. Where else would you sleep anyway?” he asked as he lifted the covers. “Not on the floor?”

“Or sitting at the table” Ermal said, gesturing to the small writing desk against the wall. Fabrizio got into the bed and forcefully patted the area next to him. “Put your head on that pillow and get comfortable.”

Ermal smiled warmly at him. “It's like the times we fell asleep on the futon watching movies” he said, joining Fabrizio under the covers.

“It is just like that. So what do you like to do before sleep? Do you want to read or turn on the TV?”

“Okay, let's see what's on.”

Their options were a late night re-run of a dog show, the South Korean stock exchange, or 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?' They settled on the quiz show, joining at the point where the 5,000 euro question was being asked. Ermal answered quickly, Fabrizio chose another option soon after, and they both waited to see who was right.

The wait was longer than expected. Fabrizio had time to brush his teeth, and still the question hadn't moved on. Ermal got frustrated and started directing remarks at the TV, until he got fed-up even of that and picked up a book. It took twenty minutes for a new question to be asked, by which point neither of them could remember who had been correct. The show played as background noise.

“How is your book?” Fabrizio asked.

“It's funny. I'll let you read it when I'm done.”

“Sure.”

“Just tell me when you want the lights turned off” the angel added.

“It’s fine. I’m going to lie down. You can keep reading.” Fabrizio rolled over, away from Ermal’s lamp, and closed his eyes. Within thirty seconds the room had been plunged into darkness. “I hope that wasn’t for my sake” he remarked into the abyss.

“It was.”

This wasn't at all like watching a movie on the futon. There was an excuse to snuggle close then, in order to see the screen, and if he felt himself getting tired and chose not to move away... then that was simply due to a lack of energy and, if he was a little more honest, lack of inclination to leave a comfortable position. It seemed natural to roll over now and put his arms around Ermal, but the centre of the bed had become an invisible wall between them, and so he lay there like a fish on a slab and waited to hear Ermal's breathing change. It came sooner than expected. Only two or three minutes after the light went out, snores were heard in the darkness.

“Ermal...” Fabrizio said quietly. The snores continued. He sighed quietly and tried to switch his mind off, allowing sleep to wash over him. When he found himself unable to hold onto any more thoughts, he knew it was almost time.

He was lying on his back, gazing up at an impossibly perfect sky. It was a deep blue and covered in bright yellow stars, with one brilliant white spot in the middle. It looked like the creation of a Renaissance painter, something that should belong on the roof of a cathedral, but there was no doubt that it was real. It was so beautiful. He could lie here and stare at it for hours.

Suddenly he saw Ermal, or rather Ermal’s face, looming in the sky above him. His head was so enormous that Fabrizio could hardly focus on him.

“Roll onto your side,” the giant Ermal whispered. “You’re snoring.”

What a strange thing for his fantasy to say, but alright. “Uh-huh.” Fabrizio turned over, feeling something soft against his cheek, and his mind went dark.

He awoke to a room filled with sunlight, and a companion who was unusually still asleep. Fabrizio rolled over as carefully as he could to avoid disturbing him. Ermal hugged a piece of the duvet as if it was a teddy bear, and one of his fingers was twitching in response to a dream. Fabrizio had thought that nobody looked good in sleep- Libero had sneakily taken a photo of him napping, as revenge for his father doing the same to him, and Fabrizio had been horrified by how old he looked- but Ermal looked even younger than he usually did, with his face totally relaxed and free of the tension that was omnipresent when he was awake.

Fabrizio took a moment to admire those long fingers and smooth hands, the unlined face and the thick curls. He couldn’t quite believe how exceptionally bushy Ermal’s hair was in the morning. He wanted to sink both of his hands into it. Had he ever wanted anyone as much as this? Probably, if he was being realistic, but right now it felt as if Ermal was the only one.

**

“What's Giada like?” Ermal asked. They were walking through Milan and had been for some time. Fabrizio had been unable to get Google Maps on his phone as he’d hoped, so they were following road signs. This was the first time Ermal had spoken for almost twenty minutes.

“She's a lot like you, soft heart and sharp tongue,” Fabrizio answered. “I think you'll like her. She finds it really easy to get along with people. I don't know what she saw in me, but I was drunk when I met her, so maybe that fooled her.”

“You were drunk?”

Fabrizio looked back at him, carrying two wrapped packages and wearing a thoroughly fed-up expression. “I saw her in a bar and I had to down a whole bottle of something before I had the courage to talk to her,” he admitted, trying to sound dismissive to cover his embarrassment. “Apparently I pretended to be a flight attendant and tried to do a safety demonstration to prove it.”

“It must have been an impressive demonstration.”

“She said I tried to take my shirt off.”

“Oh yeah, that would work.”

“Would you stop mocking me?” he demanded, half-laughing.

“I'm not” Ermal insisted.

“Why am I telling you this? You two are going to be exchanging stories about me all day. I'm not giving you any more ammo. Look, I know this street. The house isn’t far.”

“Good, otherwise I was just going to fly. This is exhausting!”

“Ermal, if you think this is exhausting, you aren’t going to last the day.”

The house was an attractive semi-detached surrounded by neatly manicured lawns and unnaturally square hedges. There were two cars on the driveway, Giada’s white Fiat and a bold red Alfa Romeo.

“This is nice,” Ermal said, sounding surprised. “What does this guy do for a living?”

“Uh, he’s a writer for a children’s TV show.”

“The kids must love him.”

Fabrizio said nothing and started walking towards the building. “Sorry,” he heard Ermal mutter behind him. “That was insensitive.”

He rang the bell and waited, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers anxiously. He felt a hand rub his shoulder and started to turn, when a burst of music and laughter brought his attention back around. He heard footsteps and then the main door opened. Giada was wearing jeans and a cashmere jumper. She looked at Ermal first and then Fabrizio.

“Hi, good to see you. You must be Ermal” she added, looking at him again. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Giada shook it. “The kids are inside. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

She led the way to the kitchen and knocked on the back window. “Libero! Libero, come in!” Beyond her, Fabrizio could see his son kicking a football against the wall in the back garden. “Sorry,” Giada shrugged. “It seems he's a little distracted.”

Anita was sitting at the table, doing a jigsaw puzzle with Giuseppe. She looked up as Fabrizio entered the kitchen and grinned, twitching as if she was about to jump out of her chair, and then settled down again.

“Hi Papa.”

“Hello principessa. Happy birthday.”

She kept smiling excitedly, but didn’t move from the table.

“Can I have a hug?” Fabrizio requested, opening his arms. Anita immediately rushed to him and he bent down to encircle her in a warm embrace, squeezing as tightly as he could without causing pain. It hadn’t seemed so long ago when he could sweep her off the ground without thinking, but now she was rapidly outgrowing his ability to carry her. He loved watching her grow up, but every new milestone brought a little melancholy with it.

“I missed you, Ani.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into him. “This is my birthday present” she declared. “What is?” he asked. Anita pulled back and gestured to herself, and Fabrizio noted her outfit, a red and white T-shirt with a cherry blossom motif and candy red jeans. “Mama got it for me,” she explained. “It’s my birthday outfit. I’m wearing it today.”

“You look lovely, sweetheart.” He stood and took her hand, turning to introduce her to the other guest in the kitchen. “This is my friend Ermal.” The angel lifted one hand in a wave.

“Hello,” Anita said. “What’s my present?”

“Anita, don’t be rude. Your father has come a long way to see you” Giada said.

“But it’s my birthday” she protested.

“I think you’ll like your present” Ermal said, smiling. Anita’s mouth formed an O of anticipation and curiosity.

“Dad!”

At that moment, Libero came running from the back garden and hurled himself at Fabrizio. His father squeezed him back. “Hello, little man. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too!”

His son looked up at him, smiling like he used to do when he was young and thought Fabrizio was the best person in the world. He’d grown out of that in the past few years, but apparently absence made the heart grow fonder.

“Are you Ermal?” he asked, looking over Fabrizio’s arm at the strange face in his kitchen.

“I am.”

Libero stepped towards him and held up his palm. Ermal waved back. The boy frowned at him and looked up at his father. “He wants you to give him a high five” Fabrizio explained.

“Oh.” Ermal held up his palm again and Libero smacked it hard enough that the crack echoed around the kitchen.

“Gently” Fabrizio cautioned, wrapping an arm around Libero's chest in a half-hug, half-restraining move. He pulled an apologetic face over his son's head. Ermal returned a pained smile.

“Sorry.” Libero offered his palm again. Ermal cautiously extended his other hand and received a light tap in greeting.

“Alright, have fun” Giuseppe unexpectedly announced, scraping his chair back and standing. Fabrizio had forgotten he was there. He looked at Giada, but she didn’t seem surprised.

“You’re not coming?” he asked.

“No, twenty kids isn’t my idea of fun, but I hope you guys have a good time.”

Giuseppe gave Giada a kiss on the cheek and then left, taking his jacket from the coat stand. The front door closed and Anita threw her arms around Fabrizio again. “Can we go now? Is it time?” she asked excitedly.

Giada looked at him. “We’re going out for dinner after the party. Can you wait or do you want to eat something now?”

“I can wait” Fabrizio said immediately, knowing that Anita would not be pleased if he delayed her departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amo Milano, amo Roma, amo gli uomini, amo le donne, amo i commenti, amo te perché leggi le mie storie


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E' un pezzo di paradiso che abbiamo qui giù

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers <3 As always, thank you very much to everyone who is reading and commenting, and especially thank you for pushing me over 100 kudos. Another milestone checked off the list! :) I hope you like the chapter.

The table was a sugary feast for the senses; cups of lollipops, plates of cupcakes, and the centrepiece of it all, a chocolate cake. Six pink and white striped candles decorated the length of the cake, and a sparkly number 6 sat in the middle. The kids’ eyes lit up with joy. Fabrizio caught Giada’s gaze and they shared a moment of mutual understanding, two soldiers preparing to enter the battlefield, knowing the chances of corralling twenty children on a sugar high without any injuries or tears were almost non-existent. He turned to Ermal, to check whether the angel looked daunted by the task ahead, and saw a lollipop stick already protruding from the other man’s mouth.

Anita took her place at the head of the table, next to the cake, looking like a little queen with her family around her like servants and her friends seated around the long table like subjects at the banquet. Giada lit the candles.

“Do you want to make a wish?” Fabrizio asked.

“Okay. I wish…”

“Don’t say it out loud or it won’t happen” Libero interrupted.

Anita snapped her mouth shut and closed her eyes, screwing her face up in concentration. Her wish lasted for almost ten silent seconds. Fabrizio wondered if she did the same thing he had as a child, repeating the wish in hopes that it would be more likely to happen. Finally she opened her eyes and blew on the candles. Four of the six were extinguished at once. Another breath took care of the survivors. The table clapped, and then Anita’s work was done. She joined the rest in excited chatter, interrupted only by brief “thank you”s when an adult handed them cake.

The adults swiftly became useless, silent guardians whose only function was to provide food and, in the case of Ermal, entertainment. Fabrizio watched him go around the table, spending a bit of time with every single child. He pulled coins from behind their ears, made them disappear in his hands, asked them to guess a number and correctly predicted it. Anita, as the birthday girl, got not only magic tricks, but also a short comedy show which Fabrizio recognised as word-for-word recitation of the cleaner jokes from a stand-up they'd watched a few weeks ago. His daughter found it hilarious and kept demanding more. It took Ermal some time to escape her.

He came over to where Fabrizio and his son were sitting, and sat down on Libero's other side. “Do you like magic tricks?” he asked.

“If they're good.”

“Well, I'll see what I can do. I don't have any cards with me, but you know what they look like, right?”

Libero nodded. 

“Okay, so pick one and imagine it in your head. Don't tell me what it is.”

“I've got one” Libero reported.

“Okay. Is it...the 9 of Spades?”

“No.”

“No? Then is it...the King of Hearts?”

“No.” His son sighed wearily.

“Give me one more try. I almost have it. I've got it, the 3 of Clubs!”

“No, and you can't guess it. There are too many” Libero said. Fabrizio was torn between amusement at his son's logic and dying of embarrassment for Ermal. The angel pulled a sad face and put his head on his hand. “Maybe I was too ambitious,” he admitted, sighing. “Fabrizio, will you check the time on your phone for me?”

Fabrizio frowned, confused. “Sure.” He pulled out his phone. “It's...What?” His lockscreen, formerly a photo of Anita, had turned into a 7 of Diamonds. He turned the phone to Libero and his son's eyes grew as wide as saucers. “That's my card!”

Ermal grinned proudly. “How did you do that?” Libero demanded. “Luck” he replied.

“Ermal,” Anita called. “Can I do your hair?”

The angel gave a resigned smile and stood up to go to her. Fabrizio turned back to his son. “How are you?” he asked.

Libero shrugged. “Fine,” he said quietly, and then looked up at him. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Fabrizio moved his chair a little closer and leaned in.

“Can adults smack kids who are naughty?”

He looked at his son, rendered speechless. “I don't know,” he said at last. “It's not something they should do, but some do. Your grandfather did it. Why?”

“One of my friends said his dad did it and I wanted to know if he can call someone about child abuse.”

“Child abuse?” Fabrizio echoed. “That's a serious accusation. Does he do anything other than smacking?”

“Yelling.”

“It's a tough situation,” he mused. “It shouldn't be happening, but I don't know if it constitutes abuse. That's a truly terrible thing.”

“Yeah, but he has a little brother and it can't be right to smack someone who's small” Libero insisted.

Fabrizio sighed and put an arm around his son’s shoulders. He could see Libero becoming more and more like him, taking all of the world’s problems onto his shoulders. It was too late for Fabrizio, but he didn’t want his son to be like that, neglecting his own needs and feeling guilty because he couldn’t fix everyone else’s problems.

“All you can do is be there for him and let him know that he can come to you if things get worse” he said, hoping that would be comforting enough.

“It's mainly his little brother who gets hit. Can't I call someone to have him taken away?”

He shook his head. “No, you can't do that. Think of how upset their mother would be if her children were taken away. Remember, you don't know the whole situation.”

Libero heaved a deep sigh and briefly rested his head against Fabrizio’s arm, before abruptly sitting up straight, as if embarrassed to be seen in such a pose.

“Gosh, this is a heavy topic for a birthday party. Let's talk about something happier,” Fabrizio suggested. “Have you thought about where you want to go tomorrow?”

“I don't know yet. I'll let you know.”

“Okay,” Clearly the exuberant greeting in the house had been the exception, not the rule. “I'm looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Fabrizio looked around the room and saw it through his son's eyes. A sea of children so much younger than him, with whom he had almost nothing in common. “We should have thought of inviting some of your friends to keep you company.”

“It's okay. They wouldn't want to come, and I like this. I miss us being together,” Libero said, and then turned to meet Fabrizio’s eye. “Dad, will you promise not to get a girlfriend?”

He felt his stomach drop at hearing that question. “I think it's very unlikely that I will” he replied lightly.

“But promise?” Libero insisted, with unexpected gravity.

“Libero, where is this coming from?”

His son looked down at the table again. “Lib?” Fabrizio slightly tightened his hold, leaning in to speak quietly. “If something’s bothering you, would you tell me?”

Libero nodded without looking at him.

“So why are you worried about me getting a girlfriend?”

Libero opened his mouth, closed it again, and then made another attempt to speak. “You live so far away now and I’m afraid you’ll forget us.”

Fabrizio frowned, genuinely confused. “How could I do that?”

“You might get lonely and want another family.”

“Libero…That’s not at all how this works. I can’t just ‘get another family’ and I wouldn’t want to. Why mess with perfection, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood. Fortunately he saw a smile break out on his son’s face.

“Good. It's okay if you have a friend,” Libero added casually. “Just don't live with anyone else and don't have another family.”

He didn't mean to look. He actively tried to stop himself, but somehow his eyes slid of their own accord towards the top of the table. Ermal was sitting on the ground so Anita could reach him, his curls pulled up in tufts and secured with sparkly butterfly clips. Fabrizio swiftly looked away before Libero noticed.

“I won't,” he said. “I promise. You're my family, you and Anita. You always will be.”

“And Mum. The four of us are a family. We always will be.”

“You're absolutely right.” He agreed to keep the peace more than anything else. Giada was a friend and co-parent, certainly. Anything beyond that was in a grey area.

After the food, it was time for presents. Chiara’s gift was the first to be opened, and turned out to be a dark green T-shirt with an orange dinosaur on the front. The colours clashed badly, but Anita was overjoyed with it. Other gifts included an orange bouncy ball, a cuddly rabbit toy and a remote control car. Most of the kids were as surprised as Anita to see what they’d bought. Libero was the first member of the family to give a gift. Anita took it and squeezed the package, shaking it next to her ear. “It’s soft,” she declared. “Is it socks?”

“No, it’s not socks” Libero assured her.

“Even if it was, you’d still be grateful, wouldn’t you?” Giada added. Anita nodded quickly and pulled the paper off. She squealed for joy when the blue Tubby Teddy was revealed.

“It’s Vincenzo! Thank you, Libero!” She jumped off the chair to hug her brother, who grinned as he returned the embrace. Fabrizio smiled at the sight, glancing at Giada to see her looking as happy as he felt. He was so thankful that his children got along so well and hoped their bond would endure for many years. It was important that they would always have someone to rely on.

Giada had already given her gift, so it was Fabrizio’s turn next. He slid the hard, rectangular box across the table and caught Giada’s curious look. Anita shook the gift next to her ear and pouted thoughtfully at the rattle within before opening it. She gasped aloud at the necklace and started to run to Fabrizio, and then doubled back to take it with her. “It’s so pretty,” she declared, hugging him. “Papa, put it on.”

“It goes over your head, love” he said, demonstrating. She gripped the dragonfly in her fist and grinned brightly up at him, and then launched into another hug which nearly strangled him. Fortunately the lure of presents drew her away swiftly, and she went through a few more before reaching a large box at the bottom of the pile. She knocked her fist gently on the top of it, looking for clues, before opening it.

“Oh. Shoes. Thank you,” she declared, carefully putting them aside. “They're very nice.”

Fabrizio glanced back at Ermal. The angel smiled and shrugged, not looking offended by the comparative lack of enthusiasm.

After the food and gifts, the kids were brought downstairs to the jungle gym and left to go wild. In ten seconds, every one of them was out of sight, including Libero. His son was growing up fast, but he wasn't too old yet for the simple joys of running and climbing. That left the adults to sit at a table outside the play area and wait until they were required.

“Love the new hairstyle” Fabrizio teased.

“Apparently I am as pretty as a princess,” Ermal replied with dignity. “She's not a bad hairdresser actually. I was surprised by how little it hurt.”

They both turned as Giada came towards them, having seen off the last of the kids. “Don't worry,” she said as she sat down. “The gifts that Anita doesn't appreciate at first are the ones she ends up loving for the longest time. It always happens.”

“It's okay. I know what kids are like.”

“Do you have children?” she asked interestedly.

“No, but I do have nieces.”

“That makes sense then. You're a real hit with the kids.”

Ermal beamed with pleasure. “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk much. How did you come to meet Fabrizio?”

Ermal turned to look at him, silently requesting some clue as to the story they were going with. They probably should have discussed this before now, Fabrizio thought ruefully. Ermal’s presence was such a normal part of his life that he completely forgot about the need for cover stories until the very moment they were required.

“He moved in shortly after I was injured,” he answered. “He took it upon himself to offer assistance and we became friends over time, didn't we?”

“Yes” Ermal agreed, looking as if he could barely stop himself from laughing. Fortunately his face was turned away from Giada and she remained none the wiser.

“I'm pleased he had you around” she said.

“We should probably take this opportunity to move the gifts into the car” Fabrizio suggested, keen to avoid any more questions.

“I’ll help” Ermal volunteered.

“Good idea. Let me just…” Giada lifted her bag onto her lap and started rifling through for the car keys.

“Mum!” Libero called, racing towards them. The panic on his face did not suggest good news. “One of the little kids fell down the slide.”

“What do you mean, he fell?” Giada asked frantically.

“He went down the Freefall and hit his head.”

“Oh my God, you’re too young for that slide. Where is he?”

She got up and walked after her son, abandoning the bag on a chair. Ermal looked at it and then at Fabrizio. “Do we just take the keys or wait for her?”

“We’ll wait in case she needs us. I hope that kid’s okay.”

Ermal picked up the bag and closed the zip. “I’m sure he will be. Kids are tough. I remember my brother falling into a river when he was tiny and knocking himself out. He was back to playing by evening.”

“He fell into a river? How did he get out?”

“I got him out. My trousers were soaked” Ermal added.

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know, maybe about…six or seven?”

Fabrizio wondered where his parents had been. He tried to give his kids more freedom than he’d been allowed, but he still wouldn’t let them go near water by themselves. He thought about asking and then decided not to. Ermal’s childhood stories were like a carpet which looked innocuous enough at first, but upon closer inspection revealed horrifying things beneath.

Fortunately a distraction was not far away.

“Papa!” Now Anita was the one sprinting towards them. She rounded the table and climbed onto Fabrizio’s lap.

“Hello piccola. What are you doing here?”

“Play with me” she ordered.

“What about your friends?”

She scowled. “They’re not my friends anymore.”

“What?” He felt a surge of panic. “Why not?”

“Chiara said you’re an alcoholic and I said you’re not, and then Luca agreed with her and they wouldn’t say sorry.”

“Ani,” he sighed. He lifted her off his knee and put her on the ground. “Don’t fight with your friends over silly things like that. Go back to her.”

“No!” Anita folded her arms and refused to move. “I don’t want to be friends with her. I want to stay with you.”

“I’m too big to play with you” Fabrizio implored.

“You could take her to the arcade next door” Ermal suggested. Fabrizio looked at him in disbelief. Whose side was he on?

“Yes!” Anita grabbed his hand, looking at him with those bright eyes that he could never refuse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go and play with your friends?” he asked again.

She shook her head and started pulling his arm. “Alright then,” he conceded. He stood and she grabbed his hand in a firm grip. “The birthday girl gets whatever she wants.”

“I’ll wait for Giada to come back and then put those gifts in the car” Ermal said. Fabrizio smiled gratefully. “Thanks.”

The angel shrugged. “What are friends for?”

There were only a few people in the arcade, a group of boys at the basketball nets and some girls on the dance machine. Anita directed him towards the air hockey table. When they got there, she could barely reach the paddle, and she certainly couldn’t see over the table.

“I think you’re too small for this game” he remarked unthinkingly. He should have known better. Telling Anita that she was too young for something was a challenge.

“Let’s play this!” she insisted.

Fabrizio sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable tears of frustration. “Alright.”

Anita lost the first game. She demanded another, and got one, which she lost again. Even with Fabrizio putting all of his effort into not scoring, his daughter was such a terrible goalkeeper that the puck still made it past her defences at least once per game. He attempted to score an own goal to help her, but she saw him and was furious. They were on their third game and Fabrizio was in danger of losing Anita’s affection for the rest of the day, when he saw Ermal approaching in the corner of his eye.

“Giada is back holding the fort. Can I join you?”

“Sure. Is the kid okay?” Fabrizio asked, breaking off from the game.

“He’s fine. He just bumped his head and started crying. How are things in here?”

“Not good!” Anita snapped.

Ermal looked sympathetically at Fabrizio, and then returned his attention to the little girl, kneeling down to her height. “Hey, Anita. Do you want to see a magic trick?”

“Okay.”

“Give me your hands.”

She presented her hands and Ermal encased them in his, rubbing gently. “I’m going to take your papa’s skill and give it to you for one game so you can beat him. Now the magic is done. Go and earn victory.”

The puck fell on Fabrizio’s side and he shunted it in a straight line across the board. Anita swiped it aside easily, and when he returned the pass, she smacked it directly across the board and into his goal. Fabrizio looked down in shock. Anita shrieked with delight.

“Papa, pick it up! Pick it up!”

He bent and grabbed the puck, firing it wildly towards her goal. She stopped it dead and then hit it in a zig-zag pattern that brought it straight into the corner of his goal. Her cry of joy was even louder now and she dropped her paddle in excitement. The delay allowed Fabrizio to aim at an empty goal, but he wasn’t surprised when his strike misfired and slid behind the goal instead of into it. Ermal picked up the paddle and returned it to Anita. She moved the puck back into position with her hand, took aim and fired. Her shot misfired too, but Fabrizio’s attempt to regain control failed. Somehow he missed it entirely and it slid into the centre of the table. Anita stood on tiptoes and tried to reach it, her small arms falling well short.

Fortunately, the puck didn’t stop, but continued a gentle trajectory until it was within her range and she hit it with the softest blow possible. It bounced off the corner of goal and Fabrizio sent it flying into her undefended slot. She let out a cry of rage and slammed the puck back on the table. Ermal laughed and Fabrizio saw him quickly touch her hand. Perhaps it was the top-up of luck, or his momentary lapse in concentration at the sound of that infectious cackle, but the next shot sent the puck right into his goal and restored Anita to triumphant happiness. He gasped and held his head in mock horror.

The final score was 7-2, a ridiculous margin of victory considering that Fabrizio had to sweat in order to get 4 or 5 goals in a normal game. Anita didn’t see fit to question her win. When the time ran out, she threw her arms up and jumped for joy. “I beat you, Papa!” she declared, running around the table and into his arms.

“You certainly did, piccola.”

“I’m happy now” she said, and he laughed.

“It’s not about winning. It’s about playing the game.”

Anita frowned at him. “What’s the point of playing if you don’t win?” she asked.

Before Fabrizio could even attempt to answer that logic, she pulled away from him and scanned the area for a moment. “Ermal,” She marched over to him. “Can you do your magic on the other games?”

“I can certainly try.”

“I want the Pikachu in the claw machine, but it won’t hold on. Come on.” She took his hand and started to pull him away. Ermal grinned over his shoulder at Fabrizio, who watched them go with a warm feeling in his heart.

**

They went for dinner in a pizza place and the kids were in a giddy mood. There was no naughtiness, just excitement. They were possibly a little hyperactive, but Fabrizo couldn’t begrudge that when the atmosphere was so light. Libero’s knife and fork were play-fighting while he provided commentary in an impressive array of voices, to the delight of the younger children around him. Anita was doubled up and had lost the ability to speak for giggling.

“Terrible” a woman muttered, drawing Fabrizio’s attention towards the table adjacent to theirs. A couple in their late fifties were visibly simmering with disapproval, clearly having hoped that their consumption of a pizza margherita in a self-declared family friendly trattoria would be as serene a dining experience as they’d have in a high-end restaurant. Giada noticed too and told the kids to quieten down. They did, or at least tried to. Unfortunately, they didn’t come with an ‘off’ switch. Over the next hour, every time one of the kids dared to laugh, the tutting and head-shaking at the adjacent table became worse. It was oppressive.

“Should we say something?” Ermal whispered halfway through. “The kids aren’t even doing anything wrong.”

Fabrizio shook his head. “Just ignore them. Don’t let it get to you. They haven’t even noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” the angel retorted. “You couldn’t fail to notice.”

“Ermal, look at my picture” Anita called. Ermal turned and leaned forward to get a better look. “Is that me?” he asked. “I love it. I especially like how you’ve drawn my hair. Well done.”

After the air hockey game, Anita had decided that Ermal was her new best friend, and even his failure to secure a Pikachu hadn’t damaged his standing. His explanation that luck didn’t extend to machines that were designed to fail had been accepted, and Anita had held his hand on the way to the restaurant. Fabrizio had to try not to stare at them too much. There was something so gorgeous about seeing the two halves of his world together that he thought his heart would break. He sorely wished that this could be normal life, instead of a special occasion.

When the bill arrived, Fabrizio almost had to arm-wrestle Giada to pay, but ultimately won the battle. She left to go to the Ladies, and when she was gone, the woman’s furious complaining reached a whole new level.

“Well, thank God they’re going.”

“Why does she have to speak so loud?” Ermal hissed.

“Calm down,” Fabrizio put a hand on his shoulder, grateful that Ermal was sitting on the inside. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

“This was supposed to be a nice dinner and she’s ruined it.”

“She’s only ruined it if you let her. The kids are most important and they’ve had a great time.”

Ermal sighed, but settle down again. Fabrizio could see him still watching the other table though.

“Libero, Libero, can you show me how to make my armpit fart?” Anita asked excitedly. Fabrizio had no idea how the conversation had turned in this direction, but Libero was already whispering instructions into his sister’s ear.

“Anita,” he said quickly, seeing her arm reaching up her T-shirt. “That’s not really appropriate for a restaurant…”

The most pathetic armpit fart squeaked its way into the air, sounding like a balloon being very slowly let out. “I did it!” Anita yelled. Fabrizio laughed. It was impossible not to.

“Shhh! Bloody animals!”

Indignation began to bubble up inside him. Giada returned swiftly and they began to pack up, organising the kids in single file to make sure no-one was left behind. His ex was clearly less bothered by the situation than he was.

“Good riddance!” the woman called, loudly enough that she clearly aimed to be heard.

As the children scurried ahead with Giada, Fabrizio realised that Ermal had vanished from his side. He spun around and saw the angel marching back.

“Hello,” he said politely. “I’m sorry you’ve been offended by the children, but this is a family restaurant. They really weren’t doing anything wrong. They weren’t behaving badly. They were just having a nice time.”

The woman reddened furiously- Fabrizio had never seen anyone turn that shade of lobster and he wondered if she knew how she looked- and her mouth opened to throw back an argument. “Just fuck off.”

Fabrizio’s eyes widened. Even Ermal looked a little taken aback. “Pardon?”

“Fuck off.”

“Not again, Benedetta” her husband whispered, looking as though he’d like to crawl under the table and die.

Fabrizio watched Ermal, watched his tense posture relax. “Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll do that.” He turned away and then circled back. “Just one last thing.”

He shoved his hand under his T-shirt and a spectacular armpit fart resounded around the restaurant, loud and realistic. Fabrizio’s hand flew to his mouth in disbelief. Benedetta’s eyes looked as though they were about to pop out and become a pizza topping.

“Enjoy your meal” Ermal said sweetly, spun on his heel and rejoined the party. All of the children were still at the top of the stairs, watching, looking as if they’d just met an idol. Fabrizio had a desperate urge to grab Ermal into a hug, although he didn’t know why. That behaviour certainly shouldn’t be praised, especially not in front of children…but by God, it was satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, I'd be so happy if you were able to leave a comment :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molto bene, molto male; tanto vale farlo uguale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. At long last certain developments are afoot so I hope the chapter provides a good read <3

“Sorry if I was a bad influence,” Ermal said. “She deserved it though.”

They were back at the hotel now, after the last of Anita’s friends was collected from the house and Fabrizio’s own children were preparing to go to bed. Giada had given them a bottle of wine as thanks for helping, as if Fabrizio needed some kind of repayment, but he wasn’t going to say no to Tuscany’s finest. He and Ermal were sitting on the floor as they drank, just in case they accidentally spilled some and marked the bedsheet.

“I can’t deny that,” he replied. “Or that my kids think you’re the most wonderful man they’ve ever met.”

Ermal’s eyes lit up. “Really?” he asked eagerly.

Fabrizio grinned. “Really. But please don’t get any ideas. Promise me you won’t be going around armed with whoopee cushions and water pistols at the ready to use on anyone who annoys you.”

“Now you’re putting ideas in my head.”

Fabrizio laughed and lifted his plastic cup, toasting it against Ermal’s. “This has been a really great weekend” he said.

“Yeah, it’s been lots of fun, and this hotel is great. It’s going to break my heart to leave it,” Ermal agreed. “It’s not over yet though. You’ve still got your day out with Libero.”

Fabrizio nodded excitedly at the reminder. Libero had chosen the science museum for tomorrow’s excursion. His mother was going to bring him down and Fabrizio was charged with making sure he got home again at the end of the afternoon. It had all been arranged and he couldn’t wait.

“Are you coming?” he asked. Ermal scoffed and shook his head. “You don’t want me there. I’ll go to the Duomo or something.”

Fabrizio nodded, secretly pleased and grateful for the angel’s consideration.

“What music do you want?” Ermal asked, standing up and going to the radio. Fabrizio leaned back against the footboard and considered, gently sloshing his cup.

“How about a blast from the past?”

“Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!” immediately began to play at full blast, and Fabrizio nearly choked on wine.

"God, that takes me back!"

They spent the next few hours drinking, laughing and singing everything from Nessun Dorma to I Will Always Love You, which were sung about as well as could be expected by two men intoxicated by alcohol and high spirits.

“And IIIIIIIIIIEEEIIIIII will love always you!”

Fabrizio had to shush him, giggling uncontrollably, before another guest filed a noise complaint against them. Ermal had pulled his curls off his face and tied them back in a bun. Fabrizio had thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, but apparently he was wrong. When he finally looked at the clock, it was a quarter to two.

“God, look at the time,” he said. “I don’t know where the evening has gone. It really is like the old days.”

“You’re telling me you used to have this much fun every night? I don’t believe you” Ermal retorted.

“Are you having fun?”

“Fabrizio, living with you is a permanent riot. Trust me.”

“I’ll try to take that as a compliment,” Fabrizio smiled. “But, hey, it’s thanks to you if I have a better-rounded life these days.”

Ermal took another draught of wine. Giada’s gift was long gone, the cups had gone missing somewhere, and they were now sharing their second bottle from room service. In the back of his mind, Fabrizio realised that he was quite drunk. Not unpleasantly so. Far from it.

“Has this job lived up to expectations?” he asked.

Ermal paused, looking thoughtful.

“Or maybe I should ask another question. Has it achieved what you wanted?”

“That’s a tough one” the angel replied.

“What does that mean? You’re obviously not one hundred percent pleased with me then.”

“Oh, you have definitely been a success,” he said. “Most other humans…I could never do this with them.”

“What?”

“Sit around getting drunk and singing.”

Fabrizio laughed. “No, it takes someone really special to do that with, doesn’t it?”

He looked up and realised that Ermal wasn’t laughing. He studied the angel’s expression, but it was difficult to make out, and his brain seemed reluctant to engage. All he felt able to focus on were parted lips and dark eyes. He felt a tidal wave of adrenalin rush through his body, blocking out all sound except his heartbeat thundering in his head.

“You're a nice person,” Ermal said. “That's why I like you, because you're so kind.”

“Thank you. You're a nice person too.”

“I'm not always,” Ermal said. “Sometimes people hate me and wish I would go away. They kind of stop when I come into the room, like 'oh no, it's him again'. Once I got into an argument with a client and he said I was driving him out of his own house.” He paused and looked at the floor. “I didn't mean to do that.”

“They were stupid not to realise how great you are.”

“No,” Ermal shook his head, lifting the bottle in order to better make his point. “I’m an asshole, deliberately an asshole so people don’t like me and I don’t like them.”

“You’re not an asshole to me” Fabrizio insisted.

Ermal grinned. “I can’t be an asshole to someone who’s more of an angel than I am."

“Stop it,” Fabrizio sighed. “I try to make people happy because I'm not.”

“Oh? And I make people sad because I am.”

“You can make people happy. You just have to try. You're doing it right now.”

“Because I like you,” Ermal retorted. “I like you lots and do you know what will happen?”

His voice broke and he stopped, as if he was waiting for an answer. When Fabrizio didn’t give one, he continued.

“You'll die and I'll be so sad. I'll cry so much, and then the next poor soul who gets me will find the biggest bastard they've ever met.”

“So don't do that.”

The angel shrugged and took a gulp of wine. “I probably will,” he said casually. “I wish I hadn't met you and then I wouldn't feel like this.”

“I wish I'd met you sooner.”

Ermal looked at him irritably. “Do you know what? Enough of this maudlin talk! You’re not going to die because I’m not going to let you, now turn up the music!”

Fabrizio watched him march up to the radio and start fiddling with the dials, changing the music from piano to pop and then to electric guitar.

“What do you want to listen to?” he demanded.

“I can't hear you” Fabrizio said. The angel turned to look at him, frowning. “What do you want to listen to?” he repeated louder.

“I still can't hear you.”

The frown deepened and he turned fully, moving a few steps forward and bending over. “What do you want to listen to?”

“Still can't hear you.”

He sighed, getting impatient now, and dropped to his knees in front of Fabrizio. He leaned forward so they were about four to five inches apart. “I said, what music do you want?”

“Still can't hear you.”

Fabrizio wasn't even speaking anymore, just mouthing. Ermal shuffled a little closer. They were almost breathing the same air now.

“What. Music. Do. You. Want?”

“Still can't hear you.”

“Bizio, I can't come any closer.”

He said nothing, simply watched Ermal’s face and waited for a response. Sure enough, the confusion changed to understanding in an instant. Every piece of Fabrizio’s sanity urged him not to move, but he leaned forward anyway. Ermal didn’t back away. Maybe he didn’t believe it was going to happen either, but if neither of them did anything to stop it, there was only one possible outcome. Fabrizio overbalanced slightly, resulting in a clumsy landing, but removing the possibility for hesitation.

Ermal tensed up, and under normal circumstances, Fabrizio would have pulled back immediately and apologised. Emboldened by wine, he instead moved forward and kissed him more decisively. For a second there was no response, and then Ermal relaxed and reached for the back of Fabrizio’s neck. Fabrizio’s hand moved into the curls- they were so soft, how were they so thick and yet so soft?- and gripped a handful, pulling Ermal towards him.

Suddenly the angel was moving away, nearly causing Fabrizio to fall over.

“Should we be doing this?”

Fabrizio stared at him, thrown by the sudden change in demeanour. “I don’t know” he said, at a loss for any other response. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Ermal shifted away from him, curling into a ball and hugging his knees.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I do, but this can’t happen.”

He stretched out his legs and stood up, grabbing the wine bottle by the neck. “Don’t follow.”

He walked out onto the balcony and closed the door behind him. Fabrizio remained on the floor, breathing heavily and feeling utterly confused.

**

Sharing a bed had never been so awkward. Ermal had stayed on the balcony for nearly three hours, and Fabrizio had wanted to go out to make sure he was still there, but the fear of scaring him away had forced him to stay in the room. He’d been lying in bed for fifteen minutes before the doors opened and one angel carefully stepped inside, moving quietly and standing on tiptoes over the bed.

“I’m still awake” Fabrizio said.

“Oh.” He felt the bed shake as he was joined under the covers and continued staring at the ceiling, watching the fan whir round and round. After about twenty seconds of silence, he turned his head and found Ermal also fixated on the fan. “I think we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about” the angel replied immediately, so quickly that he almost bit the end off his words.

“There is” Fabrizio insisted.

“No, there isn’t. It was a mistake. Mistakes happen all the time. The sooner we put it behind us, the quicker everything will go back to normal.”

His emotionless voice grated on Fabrizio’s nerves. It sounded like he was reciting from a script that he’d written on the balcony. Well, if he thought Fabrizio would play his part, he was sorely mistaken. “I think there’s more to be said than that” he said.

“Bizio, I don’t!”

The sudden explosion of anger took him by surprise.

“We both know we would never have done something like that if we hadn’t been drinking wine all evening. We’ll wake up sober tomorrow and this little drunken mistake will be nothing but an embarrassment. The worst thing we can do is make a big deal of it.”

So saying, Ermal turned to put his back to Fabrizio and tugged the covers up around his chin.

“It is a big deal.”

“You will not let things lie, will you?” Ermal turned and sat up so he was looking down on him. “I can’t do this again, I really can’t.”

“If you feel something for me, denying it isn’t going to change anything” Fabrizio retorted.

“Admitting it would make my job impossible.”

“Ermal, it wouldn’t…”

“Of course it would. You know it would. I don’t have to be here, Fabrizio. I can look after you from a distance and I will if I have to.”

The threat in his tone was clear and Fabrizio had a horrible feeling that he was serious, that if he continued to push the issue, Ermal would walk out of the room and never come back. He swallowed, and then nodded vigorously, rolling over in case Ermal could see his face burning.

“Good decision,” Ermal said, and then coughed awkwardly. “I’d better go to sleep.”

“Me too.”

The night’s sleep did nothing to dispel the awkwardness between them. As soon as he awoke, Ermal marched to the bathroom and turned the shower on. Fabrizio remained sitting up in bed, waiting for him to finish. The angel returned fully clothed and immediately disappeared onto the balcony. Fabrizio took his turn to shower, dressed and had a light breakfast before poking his head out of the door. Ermal was sitting on the ground, back pressed against the wall, and looked so forlorn that Fabrizio suddenly didn’t want to leave him.

“I’m going now” he said.

“Have fun.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Do you think I can’t last for a day without you?” Ermal snapped. “I’ll be fine. Enjoy your father-son bonding time.”

Fabrizio knew he was trying to drive him away with unnecessarily harsh words, but that didn’t mean the tactic wasn’t effective. He turned to leave and then stopped.

“Ermal,” he said. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but let me say one thing. I have felt so lonely for the past year and, to be honest, very sad as well. I got stuck in a rut revolving around work, as if I could ignore how empty my life was by fixing other people’s. Since you’ve been here, you have brought a lot of…a lot of light into my life, and a lot of happiness too. And I just think that there’s no point in worrying about what will happen when that happiness is taken away. It won’t change anything, except that we could enjoy the time we have together…”

He turned around. The balcony was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, kudos, have a nice day :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non abbiamo armi contro il cambiamento, ma adesso tu mi puoi proteggere dentro ad un abbraccio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the people who read and especially left comments on the last chapter. Love you guys <3 Please enjoy the latest update.

His temper hadn't quite settled even when he was standing outside the museum, smoking furiously, but then he saw Libero running down the street towards him and the world instantly brightened.

“Hi Lib!” He extinguished the cigarette quickly to receive a hug.

“Hi Dad! Ready to go?” Libero took his hand and looked up at him eagerly. Fabrizio smiled and nodded, and then turned his attention to Giada as she approached.

“All good?” he asked, and got a thumbs-up.

“Your necklace has won present of the year,” she informed him, and he felt a warm glow of pride. “Alright, bring him home any time up until 7pm. We're going out for dinner this evening...”

“Dad could come too” Libero interrupted. He gazed hopefully at Fabrizio, and he thought that although his daughter's puppy eyes were famously lethal, his son's were just as good if he wanted to use them.

“Dad might have plans,” Giada said, saving him from having to disappoint. “His friend is here with him and they probably want to spend some time together.”

Fabrizio swallowed and said nothing. “Okay,” Libero said. “Then let's go.”

“Be good and have fun, darling. I'll see you later.” Giada gave him a squeeze goodbye, waved to Fabrizio, and walked away.

The first exhibit inside the museum was a large marble ball, spinning eternally in a pool of water. The placard challenged the visitor to stop the ball and then start it rolling again, and to see how much more difficult one was than the other. Libero accepted the task and pressed both of his hands against the smooth wet surface, stopping the spin only to immediately send it rotating in the opposite direction. He went around the ball, changing its direction with one push from each side, and then gripped it tightly. With a monumental effort that took almost a full minute to achieve, he stopped the ball dead and then left it like that, looking at Fabrizio victoriously.

The only other exhibits on the ground floor were a broken fire tornado and some bubble machines, so they went upstairs, bypassing the younger children's play area to investigate a floor whose theme appeared to be physics. Libero dragged his father over to a large tug-of-war set in the middle of the floor.

“You go over there” he ordered, grabbing the rope on the near side. Fabrizio did as instructed. As soon as he picked up the rope, Libero pulled hard and rang the bell on his side.

“I wasn't ready.”

“Tell me when you're ready” his son replied.

“Okay, go.”

Both of them pulled as hard as they could, but Fabrizio couldn't move the beam even slightly towards him. It fell easily towards Libero and rang the bell for victory.

“Best of three!” he called delightedly, and something about the way he giggled sparked a realisation. Once more, Fabrizio pulled so hard that he could see the veins in his arms, and once more his son's inferior strength nearly dragged him across the floor.

“I win!”

“One more time,” Fabrizio said. “This time you come over here.”

Libero's grin disappeared at once. Fabrizio watched him try to think of a way to get out of it, come up empty, and submit to changing positions. When the game began again, Fabrizio did nothing, simply stood there as Libero pulled the rope so hard that he ended up lying on the floor. The beam moved laboriously and at a certain point, stopped responding to the rope altogether. Fabrizio then took his rope and tugged it with one hand. The bell rang for victory.

Libero stood up, sighing. “It took me ages to figure it out.”

“It's a good idea. I like it.” Fabrizio put an arm around his shoulders as they moved on.

Strength was required again on the pulley system, which Libero was apparently unable to work alone. Fabrizio could see why- the rope was so stiff that he had to pull it like he was ringing a bell to move the chair. Libero's weight probably didn't help, but it was nevertheless sore to be defeated by a machine meant for children, in more ways than one. Fabrizio’s muscles ached by the time he’d got Libero halfway up, and had to let him drift back to the ground because there was no way he could do any more.

A series of videos were next, the purpose apparently being to speed up and slow down the images for comedic effect. At least that was how Libero used them, grinning at starfish that sprinted across the seabed, at flowers that exploded into bloom, and at a misfortunate grizzly bear that fell through ice in humiliating slow-motion under his hand.

They continued on the next floor, putting small balls into the stream from wind tunnels and pretending to have powers of levitation. Libero brought his father to his favourite part of the museum, and no wonder, as it was a VR goalkeeping game. With both of them standing in the computerised goal, those digital balls didn't have a chance. Fabrizio was also intrigued by a set of two wheelchairs, bolted to the floor and with a line of lights in front of each that was controlled by the wheels' rotation. The first to get to the big light at the top was the winner. Libero was his first competitor, but the other kids around were enticed by the possibility of defeating a grown-up, and Fabrizio soon had a line of challengers. With Libero's staunch support behind him, some of the kids came close, but none reached that light ahead of him.

Lunch was at McDonald's, Libero's favourite and a treat he was sworn to secrecy about since Giada frowned upon fast food. They concluded the afternoon at a gelato parlour, sitting on a bench outside with a view of the Duomo in front of them. It was a very pretty building, but a shame that it was impossible to walk in the square because of all the tourists.

“Dad, can we go shopping?” Libero asked as they wandered through the streets.

“What for?”

“I need a new bag for school and a notebook because mine is full. And there's a video game I'd like, and new jeans, and maybe a football shirt. My old one is a bit faded now. And...”

He hesitated and Fabrizio realised that he was trying to think of items that he could conceivably need, just to stay out longer.

“And...Um...”

He pulled his son into a hug, right there on the street. As happy as he was that Libero wanted to spend time with him, he was ten years old and shouldn't kids of that age be pulling away and regarding their parents as uncool, not behaving as if spending all day with them was the greatest of treats? He must be even more negligent than he'd thought. He checked his watch.

“It's 6pm, Lib. Your mama wants you back in an hour. We can get your notebook and bag on the way home, okay?”

Libero nodded and took hold of his hand again. “Are you staying in Milan for long?” he asked. Fabrizio bit his lip at that question. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Oh, okay…”

“I can look at my schedule and see if I can take a holiday next month, maybe?” he suggested, trying to salvage something.

“It’s fine” Libero sighed, kicking a stone viciously down the pavement.

“Lib, I’m sorry. I had a really good time today.”

“Me too.” Libero was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke again. “There’s a football match at San Siro in two days. It’s going to be AC Milan versus Roma and I thought it’d be fun.”

“It would be fun. I’ll definitely watch and we can talk all about it afterwards” Fabrizio agreed eagerly.

Libero sighed. “Yeah, I’ll watch it, but I wanted to go. We’ve been here for months and I’ve never seen San Siro. I thought we could go together.”

“Can’t Giuseppe take you?”

“No, Giuseppe says that you get a better view on the TV and it’s cheaper” his son replied. It wasn’t cheaper, Fabrizio thought, if Giada was paying for a season pass that Libero wasn’t using. “Mum doesn’t like football,” he continued. “And Anita asks questions all the time and it’s distracting. You’re the only one who…Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll watch it on TV and we’ll talk about it.”

He sounded so defeated and Fabrizio loathed himself. Already he was calculating the price of an extra night in the hotel, the price of a ticket…God, it wasn’t the price that would stop him, it was the waiting list. Two days was not enough time to get a ticket for such a big match. They would have been sold out months ago. Unless he could knock someone on the head and steal their identity, or ask Ermal for some angelic intervention…No, why was he even thinking that? Taking advantage of Ermal was off the table anyway and after last night…Fabrizio couldn’t even think about last night. Suffice to say that he couldn’t possibly ask Ermal for anything now.

**

The door was opened by Giuseppe. “Hi guys, did you have a good day?”

“Yes, it was fun, wasn't it?” Fabrizio looked down at his son and Libero looked back, raising a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Is Mum here?” he asked.

“She ran out for something. She'll be back in half an hour.” Giuseppe stepped back to admit Libero inside, but instead he turned and grabbed his father's hand.

“Dad, do you want to come in?”

“Well...” Fabrizio glanced at Giuseppe. “Do you mind?”

There was some element of territory here. He couldn’t demand to come into Giuseppe’s house and the other man was under no obligation to let him inside, since he’d already spent plenty of time with his children, so Fabrizio really had no power over the decision.

“Of course not, come in.”

Anita was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of fruit. She looked as the front door closed and her little face lit up with joy. “Papa!” She abandoned the table and half of her fruit to run to him.

“Piccola!” He greeted her with as much enthusiasm and bent to hug her. It was adorable and a little flattering that she was so excited to see him, a mere twenty-four hours after their last meeting. “You’re wearing your necklace, I see.”

She nodded and touched the dragonfly. “Yes, I love it very much.”

“She would sleep with it if we let her” Giuseppe remarked good-humouredly as he passed them.

“I’m very happy you like it” Fabrizio said.

“And I love my shoes” Anita added, pointing at her feet.

Fabrizio looked down and regretted it. Seeing the gift reminded him of the person. “Oh yes, they were a nice present, weren’t they?”

“Uh-huh. They glow in the dark” she said proudly.

Fabrizio smiled brightly, even as he felt a stab in his gut at the realisation that he wouldn’t get a chance to see that feature of the shoes. He’d have to ask Giada to send him a picture. Once again, it was missing the small details of his children’s lives which hurt most.

“Libero, do you want to show your dad that new video game?” Giuseppe suggested, kindly sparing Fabrizio from having to sit at the kitchen table, hyper-conscious of his status as a guest.

Libero nodded and turned to his father. “Dad, do you want to play Fifa?” he asked, as if he’d just come up with the idea himself.

“I'm coming too!” Anita announced immediately. Libero looked at her irritably. “Okay, you can come, but only to watch.”

He walked quickly and was setting up the TV when Fabrizio arrived, Anita bringing up the rear and heading directly to the sofa. Libero took advantage of her distance to pull his father closer. “If Anita's playing, I'll show you my flying game. She'll spoil my win record” he explained solemnly, and somewhat apologetically, as if it mattered what game they were playing. Fabrizio would be terrible at them all.

The game was set in the skies of World War 2, and as far as Fabrizio could see, the point was to courier supplies around the map without being shot. Libero was an ace at it. He loved watching his son play video games, marvelling at how quickly he picked up the controls and how fast and nimble his fingers were. Fabrizio could barely open a menu. Anita sat beside him, reaching for the controls every time Libero finished a level.

“My turn now” she said repeatedly, first as a question, and then as a demand.

“I want a go!”

“No, you can't play” Libero retorted without looking at her.

“I can!” she insisted, and tried to climb over Fabrizio to get to the controls.

“Lib, will you let your sister have a turn?” he requested.

His son sighed and handed the controls over with the air of a martyr. As soon as the next level started, Anita crashed the plane. The level restarted and it happened again. On the third time she was shot down. She growled in frustration and started stabbing buttons, which achieved nothing except sending her into another tailspin, this time sending a spiral of bullets into the air behind her.

Libero attempted to assist, but she pushed him away. “I can do it!”

“She won't give the controls back until she's completed a level,” Libero explained to his father, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Will you distract her?”

Fabrizio turned to his daughter, stubbornly focused on the screen. “Your mama says you’re going out for dinner tonight” he remarked.

“Yes” she replied without looking away.

“Are you going to wear your birthday outfit?”

“No. I’m wearing my dinosaur T-shirt.”

She certainly would not if her mother had any say in the matter, he thought. He had been through this with Giada a hundred times. Funny, if he’d been asked to describe his type, people with a very keen sense for fashion would not have been on the list and yet it appeared to be a common theme.

“Are you coming with us?” Anita asked hopefully, taking her attention off the game to look up at him. Libero leaned over and quickly pressed a button on the controller.

“No, sweetheart, but you have fun.” Fabrizio glanced over and spotted a yellow bar in the corner of the screen. ‘Autopilot Engaged’, it read, and he swiftly turned back to Anita. “Would you like to draw a picture for me? I was very impressed with the portrait you made for Ermal.”

“I have to finish this first” she replied, sounding so harassed that it was almost amusing, and picked up the controls again. The level began once more and the plane took off smoothly, dodging attacks and turning with little regard for what buttons Anita was pushing. The landing strip came into view and she guided it down for a perfect landing.

“I won!”

Libero applauded gently and took the controls back. “I’ll do your picture now, Papa” Anita declared, and ran off.

Fabrizio smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Nice trick” he remarked. Libero grinned victoriously.

Anita returned with her pad and art set, and Fabrizio split his time between watching Libero play the game and watching the picture take shape. She was still drawing when the front door opened. Her head lifted sharply and she scrambled to her feet.

“Mama!”

He heard Giada laugh in the hallway and then she appeared in the living room, Anita clinging onto her waist. She smiled at Fabrizio before turning to Libero. “Game off,” she said. “Time to get ready.” He turned the game off immediately and left the room, like the good kid he was. 

“Did everything go well?” Giada asked. Fabrizio nodded and stood, ready to leave.

"Wait, Papa, you need your picture” Anita insisted. She rushed into the room and threw herself on the ground, scribbling frantically.

“Ten more minutes, baby, and then you have to get changed” Giada ordered, and left the room. Fabrizio heard her enter the kitchen and greet Giuseppe. He knelt on the floor beside Anita and watched admiringly as she carefully coloured inside the lines, selecting her colours with serious consideration. Her tongue was stuck out adorably as she worked.

“All done,” she declared at last, pushing the page towards him. “Do you like it?”

It was a portrait of him in his favourite red shirt, albeit it was so long in this rendering that it could double for a dress, and a brown chimney on top of his head that was clearly meant to be a hat. His hair was neater than the reality and his beard thicker, and Anita had filled his mouth with teeth. The effect was a little terrifying, but to see that her image of him was smiling made his heart melt.

“Of course I do. It’s lovely.”

He put an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. She giggled happily as he put a kiss in her hair, and moved to hug him back. “Don’t leave, Papa. Stay with us” she said.

He tightened his hold slightly. “I wish I could. We’ll see each other at Christmas.”

“Christmas is very far away” she complained.

Fabrizio could say nothing to that. He pulled out of the hug and held her in front of him. “We’ll talk all the time before then, I promise.”

Anita didn’t appear comforted. Her lip wobbled dangerously and she hugged him again. “I want to come home with you.”

“Ani, sweetheart, come on,” Giada interrupted. “I’ve laid your clothes out on the bed.”

His daughter looked at her mother and back at him, and then left a loud kiss on his cheek. “Kiss” she ordered, presenting her own cheek. Fabrizio pecked it.

“Kiss. Love you.”

“You too.”

She turned and ran off without another word. He got to his feet with some difficulty and tried to raise a smile. It came out a bit wobbly.

“Okay?” Giada asked. He nodded. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. Saying goodbye is always the hardest part. She didn’t want me to go.”

“I know.”

There wasn’t much more to be said. “Have a good night” Fabrizio said, heading for the door. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and called a goodbye, receiving two farewells from behind closed doors, and finally he was outside the house.

The warm yellow glow from the windows mocked him.

_Everyone is safe and warm with their families, and you are outside, alone and unloved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Di mostri come te n'è pieno il mondo e non è facile scoprirli e sai perché. Hanno mani bianche e voce docile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I’m afraid this chapter is going to be pretty angsty and features mention of child abuse, so be aware if that bothers you.

He’d forgotten all about Ermal until he unlocked the door of the hotel room, walked in, and found the angel sitting on the bed. The humiliation of this morning came rushing back at once. Ermal’s head snapped towards him and he leaped to his feet.

“Fabrizio! Did you get the message?” he demanded.

“Oh yes, I got the message alright.” He suddenly felt a desperate need for a cigarette and dug into his coat pocket.

“So what should I have done? I was so scared, Bizio, I didn’t know what to do. Did I do the wrong thing?”

He couldn’t find his cigarettes. The box must be buried deep in the pockets. “It took a lot of courage to say all of that,” he snapped, his mouth running ahead of his mind. “I can’t believe you didn’t listen to a word.”

The box wasn’t there. Libero must have stolen them again. Why today of all days?

“What? What are you talking about?”

Fabrizio’s anger erupted into full-blown fury. “This morning!” He was surprised by how loud his voice was, and his first thought was whether anyone in the neighbouring rooms had heard him. Ermal stared at him, apparently stunned into silence, but of course he rallied quickly.

“Are you kidding? That’s what’s on your mind? This is far more important!”

“Oh, is it?” Fabrizio winced at the aggressive sarcasm in his tone. “I poured my heart out to you. God knows why I bother. I’m always the one trying to forge a connection with you and you’re always running away like a skittish deer because you’re so afraid of being vulnerable that you’d rather be miserable for eternity and put other people through hell while you’re at it!”

He shouldn’t have said that. He knew immediately that he shouldn’t have. Ermal looked devastated and Fabrizio wanted to apologise and take it all back, but the words got stuck in his throat. The anger took too long to leave.

“You didn’t get my message, did you?” the angel said quietly.

“What message?”

“The voicemail. I called to ask what I should do. Giuseppe hit Anita.”

It was funny how the world could stop spinning for a moment and then restart on a slightly different axis, even more so that a few short words had the power to cause such an effect.

I love you.

You’re an addict.

Giuseppe hit Anita.

“What?” he asked numbly. It felt strange because he was responding and having what appeared to be a conversation, but neither his voice nor Ermal’s were registering. The band was playing even when nobody was dancing. “What do you mean, he hit her?”

“I saw them in the supermarket. I went in to get some lunch and heard screaming, and I saw him lifting her up by the arm and smacking her legs. He’s such an asshole!” Ermal was getting more and more wound up, the situation apparently hitting him too. “I tried to make him stop and he wouldn’t! He hit her right in front of me! I was in such a panic, I just froze. Should I have tried to take her? I should have, right?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know now,” Ermal admitted, the anger vanishing in an instant to make way for guilt and fear. “I’m sorry.”

Fabrizio supposed that was all he could say. “I’m sure you did all you could. I need to speak to Giada.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“No. She adores our children. If she had any idea that someone wasn’t treating them right, she wouldn’t stand for it. I know that.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s not really your problem,” he said automatically, and then paused. “Although I suppose if Giuseppe denies it…”

**

To the outside world, it was probably an alarming sight, two strange men lurking on the street like criminals. They had been there for about half an hour when the red Alfa Romeo drove past them to park in front of the house. The back doors opened and Libero was the first one out. “Dad!” he called.

“Hey Lib” he said, ruffling his son’s hair, and then focused his attention on the car. The other occupants were out now and Fabrizio watched his daughter. He saw her start running with a huge, happy grin to greet him. He saw her gaze land on Ermal and the smile vanish in an instant, replaced by horror and fear. For a split second, he caught Giuseppe looking at Ermal too, narrowing his eyes angrily. He glanced at Ermal to see him staring at Giuseppe with burning hatred.

Giada was the only one who seemed unaware of all the meaningful eye contact going on around her. “Fabrizio, hi. Did you forget something?” she asked, handing the house keys to Giuseppe as she walked towards them.

“Giada, I need to talk to you, in private if possible.”

“Okay,” She frowned, worried, and placed a hand on Libero’s shoulder. “I’ll be in soon. Say goodnight to Dad.”

“Bye Dad” he said obediently. He walked away and took Anita’s hand to bring her with him. She looked back over her shoulder as they went towards the house, and towards Giuseppe. Every fibre in Fabrizio’s body wanted to follow them and make sure they weren’t alone with him for one second.

“Ermal saw something in the supermarket today that was very disturbing,” he said, getting straight to the point. “He told me that Giuseppe hit Anita.”

“He wouldn’t do that” Giada said immediately.

“He did. I saw the whole thing clearly” Ermal replied.

She looked at him as she hadn’t noticed his presence before, and then back at Fabrizio. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Anita was told off for trying to steal something. I heard about all of this ten minutes ago.”

“Anita wouldn’t steal” he retorted, insulted by the accusation.

“Actually, she did it at kindergarten a few days ago too. I told Giuseppe to chastise her if she did it again.”

“Chastise does not mean shout at or hit” Ermal interjected again. This time neither of them acknowledged him.

“Can I come in and see her?” Fabrizio asked.

Giada sighed and looked at her watch. “You can come in for five minutes, but then you need to leave. I don’t want them over-excited before bed.”

His children were sitting at the kitchen table while Giuseppe chopped tomatoes at the worktop. There was the smell of grilled cheese in the air and the sound of silence.

“Giuseppe,” Giada joined them in the kitchen. “There’s been some misunderstanding about what happened at the supermarket. There is a suggestion that you hit Anita.”

Giuseppe pulled a face of astonishment, the kind of expression worn by someone who was kicked out of stage school for being too melodramatic. He walked to Giada, putting his arm around her and squeezing affectionately.

“She was throwing a tantrum, so I held her arm” he said, smiling at her and then looking at the two men, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. Ermal looked like he was about to bite him, and Fabrizio wouldn’t have stopped him, but Giada moved before either of them could. She walked around the table and knelt down next to Anita.

“Sweetheart,” She brushed some hair out of her daughter’s face. “When you were at the supermarket, you know that Giuseppe only told you off because you were naughty, don’t you?”

Anita glanced at Giuseppe and nodded. “He swore at her” Ermal remarked. His eyes were still fixed on Giuseppe as if he was trying to burn a hole in his skull.

“No,” Giuseppe replied. “I told her off. You misheard me, that’s all.”

Fabrizio could have cheerfully punched him in that moment, but once again, Giada stemmed his impulses. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, and then in a calmer tone, “Sweetheart, you can tell Mama.”

Anita’s gaze remained fixed on the table. Giada gestured at Giuseppe to leave, which he did without hesitation. She lifted Anita off the chair and took her place, setting the little girl on her lap and kissing her forehead.

“Tell Mama. Did Giuseppe hit you?”

Anita looked at the door, glanced briefly at Fabrizio, and then focused on her hands.

“No.”

**

There was nothing more he could do except leave, which proved more difficult than he wanted. Giada was furious. Fabrizio tried to escape, but she followed them outside and onto the street.

“What are you playing at, Fabrizio? I thought we agreed to do this civilly” she hissed. She clearly wanted to speak louder, but was mindful of what the kids might hear.

“Giada, Anita is terrified of him. That’s why she said it never happened.”

“Giuseppe was in the other room.”

“So what?” Ermal interjected. “She still knows she’s going to have to live with the guy.”

Giada shot him an angry look and returned to Fabrizio. “You know me. Those children are my world. I’d never put them in a situation that could harm them, and I’m convinced this isn’t one.”

“Unfortunately I’m not.”

Her eyes flared. “I know what this is really about, Fabrizio. Let’s not pretend.”

“Oh, go ahead. Enlighten me!”

“This is about you trying to make me move the kids back to Rome.”

“Sure, I’m not happy about my children living hundreds of miles away with someone who terrifies them. Giada…” He took a deep breath and endeavoured to continue in a more conciliatory tone. “I don’t want to fight. I want us to work together to bring our kids up the best way we can.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I want that too.”

“Then humour me. Don’t leave them alone with him anymore. Please.”

“Alright.” Her shoulders slumped as the fight left her, and he felt bitter relief.

“I’m going to go,” he said. “Just watch out for the kids for me.”

“I will. You know I will.”

As they walked back to the hotel through floodlit streets, he wondered what it would take to make his head stop spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. I promise this bad state of affairs won't last.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jig robot d'acciaio sconfiggi la disonestà e ridammi indietro tutta la felicità

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I hope you're well. Another warning for this chapter as it contains a description of child abuse, but it will be marked clearly so you can skip it if you want. Aside from that, I hope you like the chapter and have a wonderful Christmas :)

“I need to move to Milan.”

Fabrizio paced around the room, needing to do something, but unsure of what it could be. “I can’t leave them here with him. I have to be here. God, I should have come months ago. For a stupid job! I spend all my time and energy helping other people and I let down my own children!”

“Bizio, it’s not something you could have imagined” Ermal said quietly. Fabrizio waved the platitude away like it was a fly buzzing around his ear.

“What will you do in Milan?” the angel asked.

“I have no idea,” he retorted. “I suppose there has to be menial jobs somewhere, cleaning or whatever.”

“It would be a better plan to bring them back to Rome.”

“How do I do that? Kidnap them?” he asked. “Giada’s convinced that asshole is Father Christmas. She’ll never believe me. And if I go around there like a raving lunatic, she might stop me seeing them at all.”

Ermal sighed deeply and looked around the room, as if the answer to all of their problems could be found in the lampshade or the curtains or…“Where’s your phone?”

Fabrizio stopped moving and frowned at him. “Why?”

“We never listened to that voicemail.”

Still confused, he reached into his pocket and handed it over. Ermal unlocked the screen and stood up, his thumb moving quickly. “I was in such a panic at the supermarket. I wonder if I could have been that lucky” he said, and then put the phone on the bedside cabinet.

**START**

The rumble of a busy public place emitted from the receiver, followed by Ermal’s panicked voice. “Fabrizio, you need to call me back. I need your help.” 

“Give that to me!” The man’s voice was loud in the phone, distorted by yelling. Fabrizio wouldn’t have been able to recognise it if he hadn’t been listening for Giuseppe. 

“I think Anita should come with me” Ermal said. His voice was quieter now, further from the phone. 

“Yes! I’m going with Ermal!” 

Fabrizio’s heart squeezed at his daughter’s voice. She must have been shouting because he could hear her clearly. 

“I’ve been put in charge of her by her mother” Giuseppe replied. His voice was muffled and it was then that Fabrizio realised, he could hear Anita because the phone was in Giuseppe’s pocket. 

“Mama’s not back till later!” Anita yelled, and then shrieked in pain. Fabrizio recoiled from the sound. 

“Stop hitting her!” Ermal’s voice came from the phone. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? This is not your kid.” 

“She’s not yours either, and even if she was, you wouldn’t be allowed to hit her.”

“I’ll do what the fuck I want.”

Fabrizio found himself turning away from the phone, gripping his head, as if physical distance would allow him to escape.

“And stop using language like that. She’s six!” Ermal said. There was a sudden scuffle of noises that brought Fabrizio’s attention back to the phone. A gasp, some unintelligible noise in his daughter’s voice, and then words that exploded so loudly out of the phone that he was sure they could be heard in the next room.

“Little bitch! You do as you’re told. Get here.”

He felt the wall connect with his fist before he realised what he was doing, and looked in surprise at his own hand. “Sorry” Ermal whispered. From the phone, Anita was screaming and crying. The way her voice went up and down indicated that they were moving, but the phone was exactly on a level with her and so the noise never faded. “No! No! Ermal!”

He sat down on the bed and started crying. “Stop it, please, I’ve heard enough.”

“When is her mother back?” Ermal called from the phone, sounding on the verge of tears as well. A car door was slammed. The beep indicated that the message time had run out. Neither of them spoke or moved for several seconds. Fabrizio looked at his hand with vague bemusement. His knuckles were stinging and had turned a light pink colour.

**END**

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help” Ermal said.

Fabrizio stood up and walked out onto the balcony, leaning over the wall and swallowing huge mouthfuls of cold evening air to calm down. “We need to take this to Giada.” He didn’t know if he intended to be heard or not, but of course he was.

“Now?”

Fabrizio looked back at him. “Yeah, now. I’m not leaving them in that house for another hour.”

“Will I call a taxi?” Ermal ventured after a moment.

“Taxi?” He turned around fully. “No. There’s no time to mess around with traffic. I need you to take me there now.”

**

Flying was both exhilarating and terrifying. Fabrizio kept his eyes shut for most of the journey, missing out on a bird’s eye view of Milan so that he wouldn’t panic at the expanse of empty space beneath his feet.

“We’re almost there. Open your eyes.”

“How did you know they were closed?”

“Lucky guess.”

He blinked against the wind and saw the top of tall white buildings only a few metres below. He drew his legs up to avoid kicking over a satellite dish or destroying any tiles, and then Ermal swooped down into the street and deposited him on his feet next to a neatly trimmed hedge. He gripped the wall and looked back to see the angel making an elegant landing behind him, folding his wings away and reaching a hand around to rub his back. “You’re heavier than I thought you’d be” he remarked.

Fabrizio almost smiled, and then turned towards the end of the street. Just around the corner was Giuseppe’s house where he had so innocently, and foolishly, left his children a few hours ago. He suddenly remembered the way Libero had stood up straight when Giuseppe answered the door, and how he’d quickly invited Fabrizio to come inside until their mother came home. Had the bastard hurt his son too? Or was Libero aware of what had happened to his sister? Why hadn’t he said anything? He’d had ample opportunity during the afternoon when it had only been the two of them. That question was going to kill him until he had an answer, but for now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Do you want me to come?” Ermal asked. Fabrizio felt a hand wrap around his and looked down, and back up at Ermal. He looked so sad and guilty, and Fabrizio couldn’t stand that. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t their parent, and he hadn’t even met them until two days ago, and yet he had done more to help than anyone else.

“Yeah, I want you to come.”

He squeezed Ermal’s hand in return. The events of last night and this morning seemed so long ago now, and so irrelevant in the scheme of things, but now he remembered the feeling of a bird thrashing in his chest whenever the angel touched him. When this was over, he was determined that they would talk. If he had to keep hold of Ermal to stop him disappearing, he would. The problem was fear, not lack of feeling, and surely there had to be a way to solve that. This was too special not to fight for.

“I’m glad it was you” he said, surprised by his own words. Ermal looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m glad that whatever powers are up there sent you to me.”

Ermal blinked and then a bright smile lit up his face. “So am I. I know I haven’t been the best angel…”

“You have been the best. You’ve done so much for me, more than I ever asked for.”

“You never asked for anything.”

“And yet you still gave me everything.”

Ermal looked stunned. His breathing shook and he seemed unable to decide whether to laugh or cry, but in the end he did neither. He flung himself at Fabrizio and hugged him tightly, an embrace that was willingly returned. If this were any other moment, it would be perfect. Only 24 hours ago, the smell of warm skin and overly fruity hair from the hotel shampoo was all he could have asked for, the light kiss he felt next to his ear would have completed his happiness, but it wasn’t the right time now. This wasn’t the time to hold him close and admit that he'd fallen in love, that there was nothing he wouldn't do to make him happy if he was given a chance. They’d have to talk about it, but later. There would be time for it all later.

“Alright,” Fabrizio stepped out of the hug, but kept hold of Ermal’s hand. “Let’s go deal with this asshole once and for all.”

It was Giuseppe who opened the door, and had the audacity to roll his eyes at the sight of them. “Oh my God, what do you want?” he asked.

“We’re here to speak to Giada” Fabrizio said.

“She’s in bed.”

“Get her up, please.”

The other man scoffed and shook his head. “You’re crazy. She’s going to stop you seeing them if you keep coming around here, harassing me with wild accusations.”

“I highly doubt that. Get her for us, please” Ermal ordered. Giuseppe looked at him like he was an insect. “And what if I don’t?”

Ermal stepped forward so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Giuseppe. “Then I will take you up to the clouds and drop you” he said. His voice was so cold and calm that Fabrizio felt a shiver go through him, even though he wasn’t the one in danger. Giuseppe did not seem to experience the same sense of dread. He squinted at Ermal as if trying to figure out how serious he was, and then snorted derisively.

“Big words…”

“Big wings” Ermal whispered.

Fabrizio couldn’t help glancing over as the wings revealed themselves. He’d never seen them from this angle before; the bones which formed the support for the feathers, which started out as two thick plumes before they spread further and further from Ermal’s body, as he extended them to their full width until they nearly blocked the doorway entirely. They were beautiful. It was impossible to see them as anything else. Even the dark gleam in Ermal’s eyes and the smile that couldn’t be classed as anything but demonic was stunning to Fabrizio. Ermal looked like the perfect image of an avenging angel and he didn’t know if his heart was thumping from fear or something else.

Giuseppe had gone as pale as a sheet. “What are you?” he gasped.

Ermal’s smile widened. “Get Giada, please, or I won’t ask again.”

“G-Giada!” He called behind him without taking his eyes off Ermal. “Giada, you need to come downstairs.”

“Good boy.”

The upstairs light turned on and Fabrizio felt breath on his cheek. “Too much?” Ermal whispered, in an entirely different voice. He shook his head. “No, it was good.”

“Fab?” Giada appeared before them in her dressing gown. “What are you doing here? It’s past ten o’clock.”

“Giada, he’s…” Giuseppe began, and then looked at them again. The wings were gone, of course.

“I need to show you something” Fabrizio said. She looked between the two of them. “Can it wait?”

“I don’t think so.”

“If this is about what happened at the supermarket…”

“We have evidence,” Ermal handed over the phone and looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry. It’s in saved messages.”

Giada gave Fabrizio a curious look, and when he didn’t respond, dialled the number. She put the phone to her ear and Fabrizio thought about asking her to go into the living room. Not because he was afraid to hear the message again- she hadn’t turned onto loudspeaker, for which he was quietly glad- but because she was going to have to hear this in front of him, Giuseppe and a virtual stranger. This was something that required a semblance of privacy, but it was too late.

She frowned. Her mouth opened slightly. She glanced at Giuseppe, still only curious, not upset or angry yet. She gasped audibly. “Giuseppe, what…?”

She broke off before finishing the question. Her back suddenly straightened and she glared unseeingly beyond Fabrizio. He had rarely seen her look so angry. Her eyes widened a second later, focusing on Giuseppe, and her mouth hung open with words that wouldn’t come. Slowly, she took the phone away from her ear and pressed the button to disconnect.

She was the first one to speak. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Thank you for bringing this to me.” Her calmness was frightening. She looked and sounded capable of murder.

“Giada…” Giuseppe began.

“Now would be a good time for you to be quiet,” she said, without looking at him. “Go to the living room, please. We need to talk.”

He glared at the men on the doorstep. Ermal bared his teeth in response, and whether it was because of that or Giada’s instruction, Giuseppe retired to the living room.

“Fabrizio, can I ask a favour?” Giada asked. “I know it’s late, but could you stay and watch the kids tonight?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, I will. Are you going to be okay? I mean, he’s a big guy…”

“I can handle him, don’t worry.” When he looked at her eyes, he didn’t doubt that she probably could.

**

As instructed, he went upstairs to make sure the kids were alright. He didn't dare to open their doors in case he woke them, but there was no light visible through the cracks and no sounds within. It reminded him of nights from long ago, back when Libero was small and they used to read comic books at bedtime instead of fairytales. His son could always sleep easier after a story of heroes, safe in the knowledge that good would always triumph over evil. He had a blue night light with the shapes of moons and stars cut into the shade, he remembered. It cast hardly any light, but Libero was determined that he wasn't scared of the dark.

Anita had been. She used to have an orange lava lamp that cast far too much light, and between that and the hypnotising bubbles, had kept her awake long past bedtime. She hadn't been able to sleep alone for a while. Fabrizio blamed the nights when he would walk around the house with her, this tiny little thing resting against his shoulder, as a way to calm her when she was crying. She got used to sleeping in someone's arms and wouldn't let the parent putting her to bed leave. For a year, Fabrizio had had to sit on her bed and wait for her to fall asleep before he could put her down.

How did she sleep now? He was sure there were no more cuddles before bed for his daughter, and for his son, less confidence in the ability of heroes to find out and defeat villains. He realised that his thoughts were threatening to spiral and shook them out of his head before the pit opened and dragged him in. He turned and went back downstairs to see what was happening.

Ermal was sitting on the bottom step, arms resting on his legs, staring at the living room door. He turned his head only when Fabrizio had sat down beside him.

“You don't have to stay.”

“Maybe I want to” the angel replied, turning back to his vigil.

“How's it going down here?”

“I don't know. I can't hear very well, but I think the basis of his defence is that Anita misbehaves a lot. Hang on...” Ermal held up a finger, even though Fabrizio wasn’t talking, and listened intently. “Yeah, he doesn't know how to cope with kids who aren't obedient androids.”

“I don't buy that.”

“I don't think Giada does either. Can you hear her?”

“Not clearly.”

“She's just yelling at him. I don't think any of that is a human language.”

“Is he yelling back?” Fabrizio asked, ready to spring into action if Giada showed any signs of being in trouble.

“No, he's pleading with her,” Ermal assured him. “How are the kids?”

“They're sleeping.”

Ermal nodded and then looked down at his hands, nervously playing with his fingers. “Bizio…” he said quietly. Fabrizio turned to him and the angel stared back, opening and closing his mouth twice, before looking at the ground. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Fabrizio put his hand on Ermal’s, unthinkingly rubbing his thumb against the skin.

“I just…”

“Mama! Mama!”

He turned immediately towards his daughter’s distressed voice and saw her on the landing, dressed in green striped pyjamas and rubbing tears out of her eyes. He jumped to his feet and ran up to her. “Hey, piccola. It's okay. Mama's downstairs.”

She removed her hands and stared at him. “Papa? Why are you here, Papa?”

“I had to come over and speak to Mama. Why do you need her? Can I help?”

Anita nodded. “I wet the bed again.”

“Okay, sweetie. Ermal and I are going to sort that out for you.”

“Ermal's here?” She looked beyond him and grinned happily when she saw him coming upstairs. “Hi Ermal.”

“Hello, darling,” he said fondly, kneeling down in front of her. “What's the problem?”

“My bed...” She turned and pointed towards her door, shifting uncomfortably and evidently unwilling to explain the problem fully.

“I'll get her some new pyjamas if you'd be willing to strip the sheets” Fabrizio said. Ermal looked up at him and nodded. “I can do that.”

Fabrizio took his daughter’s hand and brought her into the bathroom, fetching the first pair of new pyjamas that his hands found in the airing cupboard, and ran a shallow bath to let her get cleaned up. He instructed her to toss the old pyjamas onto the landing before leaving her to change. He had to venture into Giada’s room to put the soaked pair into the laundry basket, and it took him a minute to find because for some reason, it had been hidden in a small cupboard. When he came back, Anita was waiting in a new pair of white pyjamas covered in colourful letters.

“There we are, all nice and cosy again” he said, picking her up. “Yes!” she agreed cheerfully, and he couldn’t resist putting a kiss on her cheek. “Now let's fix your bed.”

There was no need for that, however, as he brought Anita into her room to find Ermal arranging the pillows. A pile of bedclothes had been balled up in the corner. “Did you do it all yourself?” Fabrizio asked incredulously.

“I didn't see the point in waiting around. We don't want you staying awake all night, do we?” Ermal said. He tickled under Anita’s chin and she giggled, lightly swiping at him. “I want to” she declared.

“You can't,” Fabrizio said. “You've got to go for a big sleep so you won't be tired tomorrow.”

He put her down in bed and pulled the covers up. She immediately grabbed them and lifted them up to her neck, gazing up at him with her puppy eyes at full power. “Why are you here, Papa?” she asked again.

He sat down on the bed and stroked her hair. “Ermal recorded what happened at the supermarket” he said. “Is Mama angry?” Anita asked at once.

“Not at you, amore.”

“At who?”

“At Giuseppe.”

Anita’s lip started to wobble. “He'll be angry at me” she said tearfully.

“No, he won't,” Fabrizio said, a little bit of his rage slipping out. “What happened today will never happen again, I promise.”

“I'm sorry I didn't try to take you away” Ermal added. Anita turned to look at him and some understanding seemed to pass between them, a moment that Fabrizio wasn’t privy to, before Anita raised a small smile. “It's okay. He would hurt you too. He's bigger than you” she said. Ermal looked away.

“Go to sleep, bambina,” Fabrizio said quietly. He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Everything will be okay in the morning.” When he tried to move back, she gripped his hand. “Will you stay?”

“Sure.”

She smiled and loosened her hold. “Ermal, you stay too” she ordered. No request for him, Fabrizio noticed. Ermal smiled warmly at her and knelt down beside the bed, next to Fabrizio. “I’ll stay if you want. Do you want me to sing a song to help you sleep?” he offered.

“Okay.”

Ermal took a deep breath. “Apologies if it’s unfamiliar. I thought it up when I was bored” he said, and then started to sing in his beautiful, gentle voice.

_Piccola anima_  
_Che fuggi come se_  
_Fossi un passero_  
_Spaventato a morte…_

Fabrizio thought he might cry listening to him. Anita’s reaction was different. Her smile widened at first, and then her eyes began to grow heavy, closing three times before she forced them open to keep listening. On the fourth time, they fell shut and didn’t reopen. Ermal dropped his voice to a whisper to finish the song.

_Piccola anima_  
_Tu non sei per niente piccola._

The only sound in the room was quiet, measured breathing. Anita’s hand was still in his. He looked at it as if he’d never seen it before, stunned by how small it was next to his. It brought back memories of the hospital after she was born, how he’d spent so much time sitting very still and just holding her, marvelling over what a little doll she was. There had been none of the nauseating fear over first-time fatherhood that had accompanied Libero’s birth, just overwhelmingly intense love. He’d thought that he would kill anyone who harmed a hair on her head. Such promises, it seemed, were easier to make than to keep.

He managed to lift his eyes and turn his head towards Ermal. The angel had his fingers pressed against his mouth, looking lost in thought. He sensed Fabrizio looking at him and moved his eyes slightly, the corners of his mouth turning up briefly.

“Thank you” Fabrizio said. Ermal shrugged.

“Will you give her a nice dream?”

The angel reached out to put a hand on Fabrizio’s shoulder, and nodded silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst part is over! Yay! Thank you for reading and I would love you if you left a comment <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da una prigione senza sbarre lasciami scappare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) I hope you had a lovely Christmas and the first week of the New Year has gone okay. Reading my chapters has made me realise that we're closer to the end than I thought, which is devastating as I love this story so much, but we're not there yet! Let's continue! Hope you enjoy <3

He awoke with a start, finding that he was on his knees next to his daughter's bed. She was still sound asleep, hugging her plush dinosaur, and he smiled before slowly getting up and creeping out. His knees were absolutely killing him and he had to wait for the blood supply to return before he could proceed any further. He checked Libero's room and found his son sleeping as well, apparently having missed the whole thing.

He went downstairs and found Giada in the kitchen, still wearing her dressing gown and holding a mug of tea. She gave him a wan smile as he entered the room.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Not well. What about you?”

“Not at all. I was up until nearly 4am trying to sort things out.”

“And are things sorted?” Fabrizio probed cautiously. Giada heaved a deep sigh and leaned against the counter, staring into her cup.

“He wouldn’t accept that he’d done anything wrong,” she said. “He kept saying that was how he was raised and it did no harm, and he didn’t know how to handle misbehaviour in any other way. He wouldn’t listen to me at all. So yeah, I’d say they’re pretty sorted. He’s gone to work now. I’d like to be gone before he gets back.”

“I have the hotel room booked for another night” Fabrizio offered immediately, and received another of those sad smiles he hated.

“You're very kind, but five of us wouldn't be able to squeeze into one room. I can keep the kids and myself in a hotel for a while until I've figured out the next step.” Giada moved to the kitchen table, sat down and held her head in her hands. “I don't know how I'm going to explain this to them. Another upheaval and all because I'm a blind fool.”

“Why don't we go out for a meal today?” Fabrizio suggested, sitting down across from her. “We can talk about it together, like we did before.”

“Yeah...Yeah, I guess we can do that. There's a cafe nearby that the kids love.”

“We'll go there.”

Giada lifted her head and smiled at him, a real smile now. “Ermal's lucky to have someone like you” she remarked.

“No, it's...It's not like that,” Fabrizio said, his attention suddenly becoming absorbed by the placemats. “He's...not interested.”

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a shame. The way you looked at each other, I thought…”

Fabrizio met her eye and he wondered what his expression said, if she read the discomfort and desperation on his face, because she waved the rest of the sentence away with a flick of her hand. They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

“I didn't ask enough questions,” Giada said finally. “I assumed that because he worked with kids, he'd be good with them. What kind of mother am I?”

“One who went toe to toe with a guy twice her size and made him leave his own house.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, a lot of good that did when I was the last to know. I don’t even know how long this was going on for.”

“We can talk about that too.”

“I need to thank Ermal. If it wasn't for him...” She shook her head. That sentence didn’t need to be finished.

“Have you seen him this morning?” Fabrizio asked. Giada looked up in surprise. “No, I haven't seen him since last night.”

Fabrizio nodded. He’d probably gone back to the hotel. He’d done good work yesterday, but there was nothing he could do now.

“Papa! You're not a dream!”

He turned and a smile split his face at the sight of Anita, hair pressed flat on one side and wild on the other, racing towards him. “I certainly am not,” he agreed, lifting her onto his knee. “How did you sleep, amore?”

“I dreamed I was riding a dinosaur!” she enthused. “It was a flying one and we were going over the sea, and then I fell in, but I could breathe and I went swimming, and then I found a big forest and there were loads of diplo…dip…big friendly dinosaurs with long necks in there.”

“Sounds amazing, sweetheart.”

She grinned happily, even giving a little bounce of joy, another reminder that she was growing up as it now hurt his poor old knees when she wriggled around like that. She looked across the table and the smile dimmed slightly.

“Mama, you look sad.”

“I'm not sad, not really” Giada assured her, reaching across to hold her hand.

“Is Giuseppe here?”

“No,” Fabrizio found himself answering, even though she wasn’t speaking to him. “We're all going out to eat now, the four of us.”

Anita’s eyes grew wide with delight once more. “To the cafe?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, baby, to the café,” Giada nodded. “Why don't you go and wake your brother so we can get there before the queue forms?”

**

The café in question was only a short walk away from the house, and already filled with office workers and tourists. Giada sent Fabrizio and the kids to save a table while she ordered their food, returning with soup, pasta, olives and bruschetta to share between them. Ten minutes of companionable eating and talking was allowed before the meeting was opened.

“Libero, Anita, there is something we need to discuss,” Giada said. Her serious tone immediately got the children’s attention. “Giuseppe and I have decided that we will no longer be living together.”

“Are you breaking up?” Libero asked immediately.

“Yes.”

“Does that mean we have to move?”

“It does, but...”

“Can we move back to Rome?”

Giada glanced at Fabrizio and back at her son. “Is that what you want?” she queried.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I hate Milan.”

“Can we stay with Papa?” Anita piped up.

“No, piccola. My flat is too small.”

“We can stay with Nonno and Nonna until you get a new house” Libero said.

“Well, houses cost money and they take time to find...” Giada replied.

“Hotels cost money too,” he insisted. “Nonno and Nonna don't cost money.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Libero was so prepared for this, but it did. Fabrizio couldn’t stand to think of how long he’d been waiting and hoping for this to happen.

“There's also the matter of my job...” Giada began again. Libero cut her off once more, shouting loud enough for diners in neighbouring booths to hear. “You didn't care about moving your job before!”

“Libero, come on,” Fabrizio stood and gestured for his son to follow. “Let's go outside.”

The boy stood and stormed towards the door like a teenager, Anita watching wide-eyed, Giada looking devastated. Fabrizio attempted to send her a supportive look, encouraging her that it would be okay, before following Libero outside. He was pacing around in a tight circle on the pavement, stopping only when he saw his father. Fabrizio could see in his eyes that he was upset, on the point of crying, but his body language remained prickly and defensive, ready for a fight.

“Lib, hey, you can't talk to your mother like that” he said, trying to walk the line between firm and gentle.

“We only came here because that's what she wanted, and now she's trying to find excuses to stay!” Libero retorted, his hands balling into fists even as his voice broke. He was trying so hard not to cry and it was impossible to be the hard disciplinarian in the face of that. Fabrizio hugged him and, even though they were on a public street, Libero let him.

“That's not what's happening. She only wants to do the best thing for you and Anita. She doesn't want to uproot you again.”

“I just want to go home!” Libero wailed into his chest. Fabrizio guided him to a nearby bench and sat down beside him, keeping an arm around his shoulders as he waited for his son to calm down. Once he was breathing normally again, Fabrizio spoke. “Libero, I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest.” 

His son nodded without looking at him.

“Did Giuseppe hurt you or Anita?”

Libero nodded. This didn’t really come as a surprise, but it still boiled Fabrizio’s blood to have it confirmed. “She annoyed him,” his son explained. “He thought she was too loud and if she didn't shush when he told her to, he'd smack her or he’d put her on the doorstep. I told Mum that he did it, but she was never around when he did and he said I was making a fuss over nothing. And you said adults were allowed to smack kids who were naughty so I didn’t know if it was actually wrong or not.”

Fabrizio could have punched himself in that moment. My friend and his little brother indeed! His response would have been very different if Libero hadn’t hidden behind hypothetical strangers. He heaved a sigh. “I wish you’d told me about all of this.”

“I would have if I'd known how fast it would be fixed. I thought you were too far away to do anything.”

That hurt, but what hurt more was admitting that he was right. The uselessness of his word alone had already been clearly demonstrated, and he would have been even more ineffective from Rome. Without that voice message, nothing would have changed even if Libero had spoken up.

“Did he ever hurt you?”

“No, he just shouted sometimes. There was one time when he and Mum went out, and she said they’d be home for bedtime, but they weren’t so I called her and Giuseppe yelled at me for making them come home even though I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure they were okay. I'm sorry,” Libero added. “I tried to keep Ani away from him and stop her crying.”

“It's not your problem anymore, okay?” Fabrizio hugged him tighter. “It's important that you know that. Your mother and I are going to figure out what happens next. No more worrying about this, promise?”

“Promise,” Libero echoed with a faint smile. “Will you tell her to come back to Rome? She might listen to you.”

He chuckled. “I'm not sure if you're right about that, but whatever she decides, it'll be what she believes is best for you two.”

Libero sighed and leaned his head on Fabrizio's arm. “I can't wait until I'm grown-up so I can decide what's best for me.”

“Don't wish to grow up too fast,” he advised quietly, and then nudged Libero’s shoulder. “Do you want to go back inside? It must be nearly time for dessert.”

His son looked up hopefully. “Can I have chocolate cake?”

“Do you have any money to pay for it?”

Libero’s face fell in horror and Fabrizio smiled. “Grown-ups have to buy their own desserts” he remarked.

“I'm not a grown-up yet” Libero said quickly.

“No, you're not. Come on, omino.”

**

Fabrizio stayed with his family throughout the afternoon, helping them pack and move their things to a B&B. Giada had decided not to take the kids out of school in the middle of term, to prevent further disruption, so the original date of their Christmas visit was still intact. He offered to stay for a few more days to help her find a cheap flat- he was an expert at securing accommodation at short notice- but she’d insisted that she would be fine and he shouldn’t change his plans. He was going to send what money he could spare up to Milan to help with the room cost anyway. Giada would have told him not to, so he wasn’t going to tell her of his plan.

It was dusk and the sky was turning red when he returned to his hotel. He was starving and didn’t think he could even go back out to find a restaurant. They might have to dine on room service tonight. He opened the door to his room and was greeted by eerie silence that sent a chill up his spine. The bathroom door was open and the bedroom was empty. Fabrizio went out to the balcony and found it devoid of life also.

For three hours, he sat in the room. Every now and then, he closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them in hopes that Ermal would have appeared. He never had. Fabrizio would walk slowly up and down in case he might show up while his back was turned, but he didn’t. Eventually he decided to go out. His stomach ached from hunger and perhaps Ermal would prefer to rejoin him in a public place where there was less chance of making a scene. Perhaps he would be back in the room when Fabrizio returned.

He wasn’t.

Fabrizio walked out on the balcony, digging out the new box of cigarettes he’d bought after dinner, and lit one. He didn’t know if he really wanted a cigarette, although the nicotine did calm him slightly. It was more something to do, a reason to stand on the balcony and look over the lights of Milan. It was a hypnotising view, beautiful and yet bleak, and he thought that there might be no lonelier feeling than to be far from home at night. He could feel the cold making the hair on his arms stand on end as he watched the orange lights twinkle in the distance, informing him that a whole city of people were safe and warm in their beds. The sight gave him a terrible feeling in his gut that made him want to sink to the ground and give up completely. He looked away from it and turned his eyes skywards, as if he had a chance to see bright feathered wings soaring overhead. All he could see were the stars. They were a little brighter here than in Rome, but he still had to squint to see the pinpricks of light above him.

_Where are you?_

He finished his cigarette and the cold drove him inside, into his bed. It felt too big to lie in alone. He could lie in the middle like a starfish without touching the edges, but he didn’t. He stayed on his own side, because even if a part of him knew it was wishful thinking, he still wanted to give Ermal the option to sneak in if he wanted to.

The sun woke him, streaming through the window and filling the room with warmth and light. Fabrizio blinked awake and then, remembering last night, was suddenly alert and looked around frantically. Ermal was nowhere in sight. He could hear nothing to indicate the presence of another person. The balcony was his last spot of hope and he hurried out there, but he already knew what he would find. The morning sun cast gentle warmth on his skin, but couldn’t penetrate the cold inside. With a thunderclap of despair, he realised that Ermal was gone.

It was possible to taste despair. He’d never known that. It coated his tongue, wrapped itself around his neck, punched him in the stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything for hours and now he was afraid to because of how sick he felt. Breathing required conscious effort and there was no medical reason for it, but his diaphragm felt like it had shut down and he had to pull air into his lungs. He kept looking down and feeling surprised to see his body intact, because the hollow feeling in his gut was so real that he couldn’t believe there was no gaping hole to show for it. He’d never known it was possible to feel so sick from psychosomatic causes. He’d heard of it, he knew it was a real phenomenon, but he’d never experienced anything like this.

He stayed in the room until the maids came to throw him out, not wanting to walk the streets any longer than he had to, and then checked out and went straight to the railway station. There was nothing more he could do here, no more reason to stay. He dropped into the chemist at the station and bought some Pepto-Bismol, drank some as he waited for the train, and fell asleep before they’d even left Milano Centrale.

When he woke up, he felt desperately hungry, but his stomach was no longer churning. That was a relief. He looked around the passengers in the carriage in case Ermal might be there, but of course he wasn’t. What had happened? Maybe he had been taken away by whoever assigned him to missions. He remembered what Ermal had said about how common it was for humans to lose their angels. Fabrizio didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such measures. In the back of his mind, he worried that it had been his fault, that there was some rule against involvement between angels and their clients. But no, hadn’t Ermal said that he’d been involved with a client before and she’d died? It hadn’t stopped him from carrying out the mission to its natural end in that case.

So what was the conclusion? That Ermal had left of his own choice? In his heart, Fabrizio was certain that was the case. More than that, he had a horrible feeling that Ermal would have disappeared on the day he took Libero to the science museum, if it hadn’t been for Anita. Was this the price that had to be exacted? Love or family, but not both? If that was the case, it was an easy choice, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to be going home alone.

He watched the scenery for the rest of the journey, and then took a bus from Termini to the stop near his apartment. As he walked towards the building, he made a deal with himself. If Ermal was there, all was forgiven. They would start afresh. He wouldn’t mention what happened in Milan and wouldn’t ask for anything. If Ermal wasn’t there, he would focus on his work and his family, and forget about that enjoyable but ultimately meaningless interlude in his life.

He opened the door and stepped inside. “Ermal?”

There was no response. Fabrizio waited one, two, three seconds and then all hope deserted him. He sat down on the futon, picked up a cushion and pressed his face into it as he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and thank you :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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